In Shadows and Darkness
by blank101
Summary: Son of Suns Trilogy Part II - Abandoned by the Alliance and claimed by the Emperor, Palpatine's new Sith is coming into his own. But as Luke Skywalker's former life is forced further from his grasp by friends and foes alike, new agendas twist old friendships into unaffordable liabilities. Action/Drama/Romance Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, Han Solo/Leia Organa, Palpatine..COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

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_**PLEASE NOTE **_

_**THIS IS THE SECOND PART OF THE SON OF SUNS TRILOGY.**_

**_Part One:- Into the Storm_**

**_Part Two:- In Shadows and Darkness_**

**_Part Three:- At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness_**

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_I just thought you might like a short teaser from In Shadows and Darkness, sequel to Into the Storm ._

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For an instant, Han thought the soldier beside him had simply tripped in the poor light and fallen heavily headfirst toward the wall, making an incredible amount of noise as he did so- but as he spun about to try to catch him, Han realised that the ten other commando's who had been close on his heels were also down, collapsing into still, crumpled little heaps in the near-darkness, illuminated by the limited glow of the pinlight set into his earpiece which flitted around as his head moved, their own headlights pointing randomly this way and that as they fell.

They'd made it to the Detention Center without incident, leaving commandos behind to keep key exit lines clear. Moving quietly and keeping out of trouble, they'd taken out the guards on duty there using silenced blasters with low-visiblility tracer-burst and night-vision lenses. When they were sure they'd cleared the area, they went onto side-lights, small pinlights set into their earpieces. But only when they were sure- so why the hell were all of his unit now laid out? If it was gas, why wasn't he down?

Finally Han's thoughts caught up with him and he spun around in the dark, narrow corridor, hoisting his gun, realising who would be there-

Head tilted, long, dark hair falling over pale eyes, Luke Skywalker stood like a sentinel in the corridor, barring any further advance.

Even in the wan beam of the pinlight, Han couldn't fail to miss the deep scar slicing from his right eye down his cheek and through his lips, cast into sharp shadow by the uneven light. He seemed… bigger. Seemed to fill the corridor from side to side, immovable, blocking any chance of access, every muscle taught. He didn't have a weapon that Han could see, but for some reason he didn't feel inclined to lower his own blaster.

"Why did you come, Han?"

When he spoke, despite his cold, steely tone, it was like the years just melted away for Han.  
Somehow he couldn't reconcile the voice of the man he'd known so well - had fought beside and laughed with and gotten fall-down drunk with - with the man who stood before him now, eyes ablaze with contained fury, absolutely confident despite Han's blaster, making every danger sense the smuggler ever had blare out so that it was a struggle just to hold his ground, to _make_ himself hold onto his goal.

"You know why- I came for Mon."

Luke only shook his head slowly, "Not gonna happen, you know that."

"Look, I got no fight with you Luke - let's both just calm down, okay?" Despite his words, Han was aware that his hand was tightening about the butt of his blaster, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

"You gonna shoot me, Han?" It was a raw challenge rather than the uneasy request it should have been given the circumstances.

"No I'm not gonna shoot you." Han denied, deeply uncomfortable, "I just want what I came here for."

"I told you; no. Turn around- let someone else try, Han. Not you. Don't make this a fight."

Han hesitated, wishing to avoid just that… "I can't just walk away, you know that. I know Mon too well."

Luke paused, seeming to weigh the situation, and his voice when he spoke had lost some of its edge. "She's not here."

"Well then you won't mind if I pass." Han maintained, squaring off though he didn't move forward.

"You too, Han?" Luke said, voice now disturbingly calm and neutral, "Do you think I'm lying too?"

Han almost, _almost_ said it- _Are you?  
_But in that last moment his own conscience held him to silence. He'd never once faced the same question from Luke, despite all appearances to the contrary. When everyone else - Han included - had tried to convince the kid that Han Solo was just another untrustworthy smuggler, Luke had stubbornly stuck with his own gut feeling, had held faith when everyone else had judged Han on sight- on principle even. The kid deserved no less from Han; he didn't give a damn what anyone else said.

"No I don't think that. I don't think Luke Skywalker lies." Han purposely used his old friends' name- his _real_ name.

Luke smiled tightly, amused at Solo's brashness - but then he'd never lacked nerve. "Actually he does." he countered easily, "But not to you- not about this. She's not here, Han. She's not even onboard."

Han's heart skipped a beat at that, "What?"

"She's not aboard. I wanted Madine."

Han blinked, mind racing. "So you came out of hyperspace and sent that handy little acknowledgement to Coruscant saying you had Mon onboard and helpfully added your stopoff point."

"He should have led the assault. Not Leia."

In that moment, it didn't even occur to Han to question how Luke would know that. Instead he simply answered, uncertain why he did, distracted by the buzzing in the back of his mind. "Madine was onboard the Sol- he keyed the generators so his ship was caught in their influence-" Han faltered, suddenly aware of what he was saying, seeing the realisation on Luke's face as he pieced it all together.

Han glowered at the kid, "Did you just do that Force-thing on me?!"

Luke brought his eyes back to Solo, unrepentant, "Are you pointing a gun at me?" he reminded easily, no real animosity in his voice.

"No- I am pointing a gun _near_ you," Han corrected, "There's a big difference."

"Not from where I'm standing."

"Well you don't seem particularly put out." Han said laconically.

The kid set his head to one side fractionally, little more than a shadow, dark clothes lost against the limited light. "If it were anybody else, they'd be dead already."  
A thought occurred to Luke and he spoke out again before Solo could answer. "Where are the others?"

"Around." Han evaded uneasily, immediately kicking himself for admitting that there even _were_ others.

Luke sighed, annoyed, but not really at Han, it seemed. "Keeping your exit clear?"

"Maybe." Han skirted then, at Luke's disparaging look, "Hey, I don't know how to lie to a Jedi, okay?"

Luke jolted just slightly at that, the word stopping him mid-thought; _Jedi_. His Master used the word often, but only for his own amusement… Solo- Solo had said Jedi… and meant it.  
"I'm not a Jedi Han..." Han shook his head firmly against the kid's words, but Luke spoke on regardless, "And you're right to point that gun at me, because the moment your guard's down even a fraction I'll take it from you."

"Really?" Han said, a challenge in his voice. Before Luke could reply Han spun the blaster expertly in his hand and held it out to Luke, butt first. "Take it."

Luke remained still, shaking his head slowly, genuine threat in his voice, "Don't. If I take that gun, you'll not walk out of here."

"Take it." Han repeated, holding the gun out, willing to call Luke's bluff, "I've never pointed a blaster at a friend before in my life and I'm not gonna start now."

Still the kid stood frozen, head tilted to one side, eyes flashing a final warning in the low glow of the lightbeam, making Han chillingly aware of the fact that his blaster was now muzzle-in. He still held it at body-height and kept his finger through the trigger-guard though, awaret hat he could spin it about again in an instant. Still, he set his jaw, unable to kick the tightness in his stomach when he looked into the kid's eyes.

Luke remained coiled spring-tight, unmoved at Han's actions. "I'm not a friend - don't make me prove that."

"Really? 'Cos the guy who busted me out of that Imperial prison on Coruscant sure looked a hell of a lot like you."

"He's gone."

"See that's the thing; I don't think he is. 'Cos I've met a Sith and I know how low they go… and that's not what you are."

Luke's anger flared at the inferred defamation of his father, "Don't."

There was a raw threat in the word; Han saw the kid's chin come up and his eyes narrow. The last time he had seen Vader and Luke together, they'd practically been sparking. What had changed he had no idea… but he did know one thing-  
"No- I know you," Han shook his head decisively, "And I don't believe you think they're right. You're better than that."

The kid straightened and seemed to cool a little, one side of his scarred lips turning up in dry amusement, "How very gracious of you."

"Tell me I'm wrong." Han said, letting his blaster drop to his side, "You said you wouldn't lie to me; well look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."

"I'll do better then that, Han." Luke whispered…

Something… _something_ overwhelming and nauseating reached inside Han's head and made him flinch and he looked back to the kid in slow motion, consciousness slipping away as reality dimmed to a hushed whisper, a smothering wave of devastating weakness overcoming him. And Luke was just… stood, an ominously intense look on his face in the tight beam of harsh light, no trace of emotion in his uncanny, mismatched eyes.  
The strange thing was that it didn't hurt, not really; he'd thought it would - like getting hit around the back of the head and knocked unconscious - but in the event Han just… collapsed down, a long sigh escaping him, his whole body sagging in one instant as if someone had hit the off-switch.

He crumpled, legs giving way, head going cold, eyes loosing focus, every single muscle loose as the floor seemed to rush up at him in the small pool of unsteady light-

The world sideways on, Han saw polished, black booted feet approach him, then Luke crouched down before him, his words fading into the ether…"I told you not to put the gun down…"


	2. Chapter 2

**In Shadows and Darkness**

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"It is shadows whose edge define the light  
At the brink of the dawn and the darkness."

Extract from The Son of Suns Prophesy,(Jedi Master Egorin Dovas translation; 3/ 14,159 -minus.)  
Engraved into the Sunburst Throne (The Seat of Prophesy) circa 23,711 -minus.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

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... ... ...  
... ... ... ... ...

_Leia woke in the dead of night, the vaguest of ghostly shapes defining the twisted bulk of massive trees crowded in about her, stretching far above the small clearing where she stood, twisted branches blocking out the light of distant stars. When she looked down  
__again, Mon Mothma was stood before her, so close Leia could have reached out and taken her hands…  
__Dry, dead leaves rustled in the darkness close by and she knew… she knew what prowled in the night._

"_Don't look." She whispered urgently to Mon, her words turning to mist in the frigid air, "Don't look it in the eye. If you don't look it won't attack."  
__They remained still, Leia's eyes locked on Mon's as it slipped silently across the clearing, the wiry sable of its fur brushing against her leg so close  
__did it stalk about them, clinging to Leia like a shadow. And yet… afraid as she was she knew- she __knew__ that if she didn't look, it wouldn't attack._

_A dry branch cracked like bone and Mon's gaze flickered…  
_"_Don't look!" Leia whispered, more urgently now.  
__But Mon glanced down, eyes widening- and the growl that it loosed from the back of its throat was wild and feral, grating up Leia's spine and setting hairs on  
__end, her breath catching in her throat.  
__It lunged past her in a blur, too quick to follow, black against black in the shadows of the night, Leia's loose hair whipping forward with the violence of the  
movement as she flinched…_

_And Mon was gone. In an instant- no struggle, no noise. She just… fell away into the dense shadows, though Leia knew what had taken her.  
__And Leia was left alone, the constant rustle of the wind dragging through the tall, twisted trees stealing away the sound of its presence as it  
melted like a ghost into the night, a shadow in darkness, the sound of its howl sending an involuntary shiver up her spine, shocking her awake with a jolt…_

_... ... ... ... ...  
_... ... ...

To stare wide-eyed into the darkness of her sleeping quarters, Han stirring in his sleep momentarily before settling to silence.

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Leia lay breathless in the darkness, slowly gathering her thoughts, reassuring herself that it was just a dream- just another dream. She rolled over, pulling the covers over her chilled skin, tired to the bone but unable now to drift back to sleep, knowing that it would be there if she did.

It was always there at the corners of her dreams; at the corners of her mind. Ever since Alderaan. Some… elemental link which bound them together, she and the black wolf, as deep and as compelling and as irresistible as the turning of the universe.

It would always be there, no matter what else happened. No matter what beliefs she held to and what fell away, whether she acknowledged it or denied it… it would remain forever a part of her.

It would always be there- like a shadow in darkness.

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The Lambda-class shuttle glided silently through the void between the two Super-class Star Destroyers, the Honour Guard of twelve TIE's hardly necessary this close to the Core Worlds. As it flew, it slowly rotated on its axis to correct its path in relation to the SSD Peerless, which maintained a position at a twenty-degree roll to the SSD Executor.

Generally, it was standard practice for two military ships in close quarters to maintain a synchronous axis, the lesser ship rotating to match the higher ranking one. In this case, the two ships were both Flagships, one of the Core Fleet, the other of the Rim Fleet, each carrying their relative Fleet Commander-in-Chiefs, so that neither was prepared to give way to the other. It was a subtle little game, both Fleet Admirals unwilling to concede on behalf of their own CIC, neither so impolitic as to mention this out loud, and if the relative CIC's had noted the stubbornness, they had chosen not to mention it.

So Vader did not speak as the Peerless seemed to rotate in the black void of space before him, an optical illusion caused by correcting the pitch and yaw of the small Lambda-class shuttle he was on to match the looming bulk of the Destroyer, the distant, glowing orb of Duro tiny by comparison to the closing hulk of the massive Super Star Destroyer.

Nor did he remark when the Core Fleet's Commander in Chief was not present at the full Honour Reception of perfectly turned-out troops of the 701st who lined the landing bay even at short notice, since the attendance of the Core Fleet Admiral meant that official protocol had been strictly adhered to- in theory at least.

Admiral Joss bowed politely to Lord Vader rather than salute him, Vader's status in the Emperor's Household outranking even his position as Commander in Chief of the Rim Fleet. Joss had to turn quickly however, since Vader stalked past without acknowledgement, "Lord Vader. May I welcome you aboard on behalf of The Comman..."

"Where is he?" Vader growled, his bass voice reverberating through the cavernous hanger.

"The Commander is on the Bridge at present- perhaps you'd like to accompany me there?" As he said this, Admiral Joss was forced to practically run to keep pace with Vader, who had slowed his pace not a whit.

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The turbolift door opened onto the bustling bridge, all eyes lifting momentarily as it did, the slightest susurration of unease at Vader's presence there testament to the fact that their own CIC was equally difficult to handle when the mood was on him. Vader walked forward without hesitation, betraying none of the agitation or anticipation he always felt when in the presence of the Core Fleet Commander, known everywhere only by his rank, never by his name.  
Never his name- he had other names now, all carefully chosen by the Emperor and each with a purpose, either tactically or for his own amusement.  
His feral Jedi, his wild Wolf, Commander of his Fleet, but never his own name- his _real_ name.

So few knew it now, but in private, Vader made a point of referring to him by it. To remind him who he was, who Vader was- what they were to each-other. He knew how uncomfortable the boy was to hear it, and some needle of that pricked at Vader's own memories- of his own name, his own secrets, his own identity, long since abandoned in payment for the power Darkness offered. He didn't want that for the young Fleet Commander stood to the far end of the bridge, and more than most, he felt he had a vested interest, having been so instrumental in his rise to power. Vader was, he believed, very much entitled to make such decisions on the young man's behalf, despite the boy's resentment of this. Entitled to decide what should and should not be sacrificed for the greater goal. And he was willing to accede a great deal- to force the boy to do the same, regardless of his own desires or consent. Neither was particularly necessary in Vader's carefully-laid plans.

But there were some things he wouldn't sacrifice, and the boy's name - his identity, his sense of self, of independence - was one of them.

Everything that he had once wanted for himself Vader now intended for the boy; power, position… and Darkness would offer it- at a price. But when he achieved everything Vader planned for him - and so for Vader himself - then it would be in _his_ name. In _their_ name.

He wanted it for the individual; not for the Darkness which gave the power to take it. He wanted it for the man. For his son.  
For Luke Skywalker.

He stood now before the wide bank of viewpanes speaking to his Generals, though he knew Vader had entered the Bridge; would have sensed when he boarded the Peerless, even without constant comm updates from his own carefully-recruited clique of loyal officers.

The ever-present Mara Jade turned to glance down the main walkway toward Vader, green eyes ablaze. Part bodyguard, part Aide, certainly the eyes and ears of Palpatine, she disliked Vader with a vengeance- but the feeling was mutual. Vader remained uneasy at her presence so close to his son; at Luke's apparent trust. Though his spies told him that this had its limits; Luke had learned to trust no-one in the past year as Commander of the Core Fleet, least of all those close to him. But like his Master the Emperor, he seemed a great proponent of the old adage to keep one's friends close- and one's enemies closer.

Vader glanced at her for only a second, his eyes drawn inexorably to his son. Oh, he was so much like Anakin now- slim and lithe, strong and straight. He dressed in black, hair wild and loose, long enough to fall into soft, unruly curls. So much like Anakin…

Absolutely in command here, on the bridge of his Destroyer, all activity centring around him. So very different from the callow, idealistic youth Vader had brought to the Emperor almost three years ago, which made it barely twenty-one years after Padmé's…

Vader broke the thought automatically, unwilling to allow his memories to follow that path, instead turning his attention to the man who watched him now with such wary animosity, as stubborn and as willful and as headstrong as Padmé had ever been.

Realisation of their son's existence after all this time had been one of the most momentous events in Vader's life. His decision to take the boy to Palpatine, forced by Luke's rebuff in Cloud City, had in retrospect probably been one of the most ill-considered, and he had spent the last three years trying to undo the damage done by the Emperor's involvement in the boy's conversion. To little effect in truth; Palpatine held his son so completely in his power now that nothing Vader said seemed to get through to the boy, his mind poisoned by his Master's contriving manipulations.

And Palpatine was hardly about to give and ground. The boy's power was incredible, and still developing. He had yet to find his limits, save for his own self-doubt, which Palpatine alternately fed and criticized, his command of Luke requiring its control but his fascination with the boy's power driving him to test its limits constantly. Why Luke had not already challenged his new Master remained a mystery to Vader; the boy's powers equalled Palpatine's now, and if Vader knew this then Luke must too… but something held him back. Something always held him back.

Sooner or later though, Palpatine would push the boy too far and he would turn on his Master with a vengeance. Could he take the Emperor down? Accomplish what Vader never had?

Absolutely. Vader had complete, unconditional faith in that fact- even if his son did not.

Was this pride? Was it possible to feel such for a son who called him father only to remind him of how far away the reality of their relationship really was? Because he still held aspirations for his son- the driving ambition to see him on the Emperor's throne one day. Was pride not part of that? He did not love - Darkness _could not_ love. He had loved Padmé and she had loved him…once. But they had destroyed each-other… as he had destroyed everything of value in his life.

Even his son. He knew that- he wasn't blind.

He knew how completely he had betrayed Luke in handing him over to Palpatine, fully aware of what the Emperor would do in order to convert and control him; that he would break the boy to pieces physically and mentally in order to dominate and possess, to make that power his own. But he had given his son every chance to embrace the Darkness which would augment his emerging abilities, every chance to acknowledge and instigate his own destiny, and had been refused. What was left to Vader but to take him to the only man who could possibly accomplish what he could not - by force, if necessary. It had been… unexpectedly difficult- disturbing in its ruthless severity - an unforeseen complication.

Who would have thought that the boy would be so obstinate, so committed to those who had done nothing more noble than use him and lie to him. Palpatine had been forced to invest long, gruelling months in breaking the boy, finding it necessary to destroy him completely in order to build his new Sith. And during that process he had very deliberately severed any link between father and son, binding Luke to his new Master completely. Considering his appalling maltreatment, his relentless manipulation and harsh indoctrination by Palpatine, the boy should have been an empty shell, a willing slave, nothing left but diffident obedience.  
But he had risen above it, like a phoenix from the flames. Even Darkness couldn't destroy him.

_That_ was how powerful he was.

He was the only thing of value which Vader had ever created in his life.

And of that…he was _proud_.

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His son turned, glancing up momentarily as Vader slowed to a halt before him. He towered over the boy, as he did over most humans, though Luke remained not in the least intimidated. Their saber duel two years earlier in the Imperial Palace had settled all scores and clarified only four months after his conversion just how much power Luke had already gleaned from his new status as a Sith. He had nothing left to prove, least of all to his father.

"Lord Vader." He nodded curtly in acknowledgement.

He never referred to his father as such in public, another of Palpatine's little manipulations, all references to Luke's identity having been removed from public records, replaced by hints and rumours and misdirections.

The boy didn't particularly care to correct them; he had long since abandoned his old life, though he seemed to Vader equally uninvolved with his new one. He went through the motions as was required, but very much like his father he remained pointedly uninvolved with Court and the machinations and power-plays of Palace life, avoiding them whenever possible in favour of his involvement with the Fleet.

Ever paranoid, Palpatine still contrived to keep his new Sith close at hand however, keeping him confined to the Palace on Coruscant for many long months after his conversion before finally granting him command of the Core Fleet. But even now, almost three years later, he was _never_ allowed outside of the Core and Colony Systems which he commanded in the Emperor's name. And even here, Luke's interests lay not with the acquisition and dispensation of power, but in the complexities of management required to maintain and subjugate the massive diversity of planets and cultures in the densely-packed Core Systems, consciously losing himself in the minutia rather than stepping back to acknowledge the greater picture - both of his position within the Fleet and of his life.

"We need to speak." Vader said simply, never one to procrastinate, having never been in a position where such was necessary, considering his status.

Luke's pale blue eyes remained guarded as he studied his father for long moments, then the slightest of gestures tilted his head to the side as he acknowledged the request and turned, heading for his private ready-room to the right of the rear of the bridge. Vader followed, noting that Jade also fell into step.  
Luke entered the large, grey, featureless office, walking to stand before the wide span of the desk there, turning to face Vader's looming form as Mara Jade slipped into the room behind them.

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Luke had worn black today and in view of his visitor, was regretting it.

Despite the Emperor's preference for his inner elite, Luke generally chose to wear darkest blue, a half-shade away from black, but away nonetheless, the subtlest of independence expressed even here. The impeccable cut of his clothes remained almost but never quite a military uniform, a tiny sliver of white at the high stand-collar of his fitted, side-fastening jacket, the top three fasteners undone, giving a more casual air. At first glance they seemed such insignificant expressions of dissent given his position, but he held to them. Appearances were important here, and he had learned that in his Master's rigidly controlled world, the subtlest of divergences could cause incredible ripples. Elusive powerplays and political subterfuge and were not his forte - but he was learning.

"You have something to say which couldn't be spoken over the HoloNet?" he asked pointedly of his father now.

He tried hard to discourage any face-to-face meetings; everything he had to say to his father he'd said long ago, and it was he and not Vader who would have to answer to Palpatine when he found out they had met. Which he would - there were two of his Master's spies on the bridge; three in fact, if Luke included Lieutenant Wez Reece, who had long since swapped allegiance, though of course he still had to report most of Luke's dealings to the Emperor to avoid suspicion.

Vader didn't speak, only turned pointedly to Mara, who lifted her chin, unimpressed. She was one of the few who knew what Vader really was to him, Luke having consciously robbed his Master of whatever machinations he had in play long ago by choosing to tell her himself. Indirectly of course, the act appearing a momentary slip rather than a conscious defiance - he'd long since learned that lesson too. Now he turned immediately to Jade.

"Mara?" he invited simply, and she walked from the room with the slightest of bows, conspicuously choosing to acknowledge Luke before his father.

Luke waited until the door had closed before speaking again. "Well?" If his father was not in the habit of prevaricating, then Luke was well able to match him.

"This room is safe?" Vader asked.

"Of course."

"You have a new infiltrator in your command staff."

"You mean Ogo?" Luke prompted of the new Security Officer who had been assigned to the Peerless only two months earlier. Her record was impeachable of course, but records could be faked. Luke had done so himself many times now in order to place his own spies. Vader said nothing, but Luke sensed the slight fluctuation in the Force and was pleased that he'd been able to come back with her name. "Yes, she's good, but a little too… excessive in her sense of duty."

"Then why is she still here?" Vader referred to his son's habit, much like his own, of removing on principle unwanted spies placed by the Emperor in positions close to themselves in the most permanent way possible.

"She's useful to pass on information of my choice at present. When she outlives that usefulness…" Luke shrugged, unmoved.

Both men remained where they were for long moments, Luke knowing that this was not why his father had come here and prepared to wait him out, refusing to blink before that blank, glaring mask.

"You are playing a very dangerous game." Vader said at last.

Without seeming to move, Luke's stance turned from waiting to wary, "I'm always playing dangerous games. Which one are you referring to?"

"Using forged access codes to smuggle communiqués out of the Palace."

Luke's expression changed not a whit, but his mind was racing now; if Vader knew, then others may also know, and he needed to maintain that line of contact. He glanced down, considering, hoping to buy time or redirect his father. "And who would you have close enough to me to know that?"

"Irrelevant." Vader stated flatly, refusing to be drawn. "The important fact is that I do- and it will cease."

That brought Luke's eyes back up to his father, his innate stubbornness kicking in though it was, if not mastered, then at least tempered by the experiences of the last three years. "I don't think so." he said resolutely.

Every meeting with his father was a contest to some degree. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but he seldom backed down without a very good reason- it wasn't in his nature.

Nor was it in his father's. "Then you wish me to bring it to the Emperor's attention?"

Luke hesitated, pushing past the freezing burst of adrenaline at this ultimate threat, knowing that the punishment for such subversion would be extreme- but even before this he didn't yet concede, mind racing to pull the pieces together-

In truth it was unlikely that Vader would take this to the Emperor if he hadn't already done so; to do so now would require him to admit that he had approached Luke beforehand, which their ever-paranoid Master would consider a damning betrayal on Vader's part. Palpatine knew he was breaking every lore of the Sith by holding more than one advocate; history had illustrated time and again the dangers inherent in balancing the ambitions and power struggles which resulted, and the blood connection between Luke and his father made their cautious Master obsessively distrustful. More than anything else, Palpatine would tolerate no connection between father and son; he had made that very clear again and again, usually at Luke's expense. But this would be unmistakably his father's doing. It wouldn't change the fact that Luke had been smuggling illicit communiqués - wouldn't save him from Palpatine's wrath - but it would mean that he would take Vader down with him this time.

"Who are you passing the information to?" Vader demanded, interrupting Luke's thoughts.

So he didn't know everything; if he didn't know their recipient then likely he didn't know their content, which meant he hadn't cracked their code- possibly that he didn't even have the messages, only the second-hand knowledge that they were being sent.

"That's none of your business." Luke said simply , looking casually away.

"Everything that you do is my business." That was a step too far and Vader saw his son's hackles rise at it, his ice-blue eyes narrowing… then the brief burst of emotion was gone and the boy turned calmly away, walking behind the desk to sit, his voice cool and disengaged, the momentary flare of resentment giving him the nerve to call Vader's bluff.

"If you wish to take it to the Emperor then do so." Luke said at last, tone composed and even.

"I wish you to stop doing it." Vader repeated, having no real counter now that Luke had called him.

"Which I'm not going to - so do what you must."

Vader stepped forward, though the wide desk stopped him from coming too close to his unresponsive son, his tone derisory. "You won't beat him by playing him at his own game. You're playing to his strengths."

"Thank-you for the advice." Luke said coolly without looking up, eyes to the automemo on his desk. He neither wanted nor needed his father's involvement in his life- and he certainly wasn't going to be preached to by a man who had stood in the Emperor's shadow for the last two and a half decades.

Vader stared down at the boy, indignation and exasperation fairly blasting out of him now. He had no idea, none whatsoever, of how to speak to him, except in the way that he dealt with everyone else about him; as a menial or an adversary- someone to order and dismiss or to intimidate and oppress as he saw fit.

"I made you what you are." he asserted, voice clipped in anger.

That brought the boy's eyes up, burning with accusation. "Do you expect _gratitude_?!"

"I expect _respect_." Vader slammed his clenched fist down on the desk, making its contents jump.

His son only smiled tightly, as if amused that he could instil such blind frustration, his final barb yet to come, "Respect is earned."

For a split-second, Luke thought his father would actually lunge forward for him, his own muscles tightening in response, regretting sitting now, aware of the vulnerability of his position. But then, he hadn't expected his words to elicit such a response, and already now some uneasy pang whispered, so that it was he who lowered his gaze, not in submission and certainly not in guilt, but regret, on some level.

He sighed quietly, rubbing at his eyes, uncertain as to how he could feel even the slightest trace of compassion for the man who had caused nothing but pain and misery to him, frustrated that he allowed himself such weakness, yet completely unable to do otherwise. Such challenges as this were perhaps the nearest his father ever came to expressing some sense of protection for his son… or should Luke open his eyes and see it for what it really was; a protection of his _investment_, nothing more?

"If you want to help me then tell me who Lieutenant Reece's watcher is." Luke said quietly at last, speaking of the deep-cover agent placed by Palpatine to watch even his own most trusted agents such as Reece and Mara, both of whom were permanently assigned to Luke, supposedly as Aides, more correctly as spies. Luke had the identity of Mara's watcher, but more importantly he needed Reece's, and repeated searches had come up blank.

Vader tempered his own voice just slightly in reaction to his son's, but he didn't concede - and he wouldn't, not on this. "I won't help you to play these foolish, ill-conceived games. Palpatine owns _everything_ on Coruscant. He _sees_ everything. You know that."

"We're not _on_ Coruscant." Luke said levelly.

"And you think that will protect you?"

"No- I think knowing my enemies will protect me." Luke stared into his father's resolute silence, his own frustration beginning to rise again. "Either help me or get out of my way."

Vader remained silent and unmoving, only feeding Luke's resentment. It was after all Vader who had instigated this - all of it.

It was Vader who had brought him to Palpatine thinking he could use his own son to solve the problems he hadn't the willpower or the commitment to resolve for himself; to realise all of his goals with none of the risk- and in doing so destroyed Luke's life completely without even a moment's hesitation or guilt. He didn't see his son when he looked at Luke, not really- he saw an advantage and sought to use it, just as Palpatine did, with neither consideration nor remorse. And until he saw that he had guaranteed control, Vader remained always duplicitous and undependable, aiding or hindering his son as it suited his own ends, often erring on the side of greatest power, giving empty loyalty and lipservice to the man he wished to depose.

And Luke was tired of it.

He rose, eyes locked on Vader's - no mask could hide his father's eyes from him. "It will come down to this- sooner or later it will come down to this one fact; him or me. I won't do what you want, it's not going to happen. I have my own mind and I have my own agendas and they're nothing like yours. But you're still eventually gonna have to make that decision- him or me. I'd start thinking it over if I were you because one day you'll have to take a side. You forced it on me without compunction, well get ready, because it's coming to you now. Which will it be, _father_? Make a choice."

.

Mara's eyes narrowed as Vader strode from Skywalker's ready-room and off the Bridge without pausing. She didn't bother to follow him, Admiral Joss and Reece already setting forward; they all knew that Skywalker would go ballistic if he found out that Vader or any of his crew had been allowed to wander the Peerless alone. Instead, Mara turned back to the door, pausing to knock lightly before pressing the door release.  
Skywalker stood at the far side of the room, hands clasped behind his straight back, staring out into space. Or so it seemed- she'd fallen for this trick many times in the past, and knew him too well now to be fooled.

He had positioned himself so that he was able to see the door in the reflection of the transparisteel pane, watching her enter. In truth he needed only call on the Force to know her emotions or intent, but he used this method of studying without turning mostly on those who had Force abilities of their own and so would know if he was reading them and shield themselves in response. Though Mara's own grasp of the Force was limited, one of the few things the Emperor had taught her well was how to shield her thoughts. Despite her suspicions that he was able to break through her shields, Skywalker seldom actually did so- more as a matter of politeness through familiarity than anything else she suspected, much as she would like to believe otherwise.

Like Reece, Mara had remained with Skywalker, ostensibly operating as something between aides and bodyguards, and she and Skywalker had reached a kind of informal status-quo quite quickly, each learning to operate around the others' restrictions, neither so impolitic as to mention this directly to the other.

The first year and a half of his new life, Skywalker had been a constant trial, alternately listless and disinterested, holeing up in the same three rooms to the back of his extensive quarters for weeks, even months at a time, then tearing about the Palace like a vornskr with a sore head, striking out at anyone who came close when he was summoned to attend Court by Palpatine, always baiting and chastising, provoking and punishing until one or the other of them cracked and the game began afresh.

It was the event of his promotion to the military which had finally settled Skywalker into his new life - or rather, Mara sometimes suspected, the attendant freedoms which came with it. As Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet, Skwalker had gained relatively free access out of Coruscant, even though the Emperor had placed a strict veto on his leaving the Core and Colony systems. To Mara's mind it was a pointless restriction; in the first place, he was travelling with the Core Fleet, so was hardly likely to come to any harm, and in the second, placing any restriction further out than the actual Imperial Palace was academic, since if he intended to leave he had proved very early on in his association with the Emperor that pretty much nothing could stop him.

She suspected very much that this move was in truth just another round in the eternal game that the Emperor played with his Jedi, though these days they weren't quite the one-sided affairs that they had been in the past, the stakes rising subtly over time as Skywalker learned his craft and his opponent, making each victory on the Emperor's part a little harder won. Yet Palpatine always enjoyed the challenge. He alternately adored his 'Feral Jedi', heaping gifts and power and accolades upon him, then turned on him with a vengeance, finding fault in the slightest transgression, his temper mercurial, his punishment always extreme.

And Skywalker took it all with equal withdrawn distance, never involved, always impassive and aloof, equally wary of praise and punishment both.  
This was his retribution on his Master, and he knew it drove Palpatine to distraction- and he knew why; knew his Master's particular obsession. He wasn't blind and he certainly wasn't naïve anymore, Mara knew. Nor was he above playing to the Emperors' weakness - to a point. But he remained forever distant and detached, always reserved, always removed, well aware of the dangers inherent in the game he played.  
Because eventually Palpatine would lash out in frustration… and Skywalker would endure it without protest - even incite it - until that too became part of the contest. The vernacular of a familiar language with which they were both chillingly conversant. Because for Luke it meant that he had scored a blow; he had provoked in Palpatine the same impotent frustration that his Master took such great pleasure in inflicting on others.

That his proof of this came in the form of violent retribution bothered him not in the least, even Mara could see that. He suffered in the moment, terribly sometimes- she had seen the proof etched into his skin, scars upon scars now. But the ability to trigger that reaction, no matter how severe, was a triumph and Palpatine was always pulled back in for one more skirmish. She knew her master well enough to know that this veiled tension was what he thrived on; any interaction with his Jedi was rewarding, but this battle of wills had become a fascination bordering on addiction.

And Skywalker just kept on pushing. Partly because it was in is nature to be headstrong and stubborn, but also because deep down, Mara suspected that he believed he deserved no better. In this they fed each other.

Mara remained just inside the door, uncertain of the Commander's frame of mind; visits by his father often induced quicksilver swings between seething rage and bleak melancholy. Knowing he was watching her reflection, she glanced back meaningfully in the direction which Vader had just exited."What did he want?"

"_He_ is _Lord_ Vader." The Commander corrected without turning, a warning to Mara to correct her tone when referring to his father. Though there was no love lost between them, Mara knew that Skywalker would tolerate no disrespect from others towards his father.

She also hadn't failed to note that it was an effective avoidance of the question, and since Mara hadn't the authority to demand an answer from the Emperor's Jedi, if he hadn't chosen to reply the first time, he certainly wouldn't do so if she tried to rephrase it and ask again. As it turned out, he didn't even give her a chance.

"Bring the ship about- join up with the Fury and the Dominant and resume course to Neimoidia. Alter lightspeed calculations to take account of our delay."

"Of course, Commander." Mara acknowledged, letting the moment go; she would try again later when he was in a better frame of mind. "What should I enter into the ship's log as the reason for the delay?"

He turned to her, clearly amused by the uncharacteristic lack of subtlety in the question. Mara was probably closer to him than anyone else in his life at present, yet there were still gaping chasms between them, measured by wary amity and divided loyalties. "The truth, Mara. I'm sure the Emperor expects no less from you."

.

Luke remained hidden away in the privacy of his ready-room as the Super Star Destroyer came about, its companion visible for a short time as it lined up in preparation for the jump to hyperspace, tiny fleeting glimpses of TIE's catching the sharp light of Duro's sun, dwarfed by the Star Destroyers' bulk as they headed for the safety of their relative ships for the jump.

He should have been out on the bridge, but the meeting with his father had left him uneasy and edgy, as they tended to do, and to go out onto the bridge now would only invite some poor, nervous unfortunate to err beneath his exacting gaze and bring his wrath down upon them. Better to stay here and cool down- his reputation was harsh enough without underlining it.  
His Master continued to place spies within his Command Destroyer, and Luke continued to play the endless game of removing them as and when he saw fit under the guise of frustration at some apparent failure in their duties, suspecting very much that his reputation for running through fleet officers at a rate of knots was very much like his father's; a thinly-disguised method of replacing Palpatine's spies with his own loyal recruits.

There were others of course, whom he never removed. Some by dint of converted loyalties, some in the belief that it was better the devil you knew and a few who had gained some measure of immunity through familiarity. Which of these Mara Jade was remained very much under question- it had been the latter two which had defined their relationship for the last three years, but Luke still held out some distant hope that it may become the first- to some degree. Every ounce of rational intelligence told him to abandon this thought, but some tiny spark of conviction remained, which was why he allowed her so close, even knowing that she was his Master's informer, her limited ability in the Force enabling her to communicate information and receive orders from Palpatine at surprising distances.

He was still expecting at some future date to sense that grating burst of presence in the Force which meant that his Master had made contact, and turn just in time to see her bring her assassin's knife up to his throat…

The slight stomach-churning lunge as artificial gravity rushed to compensate for incredible speed marked the Peerless' jump to hyperspace, the stars outside streaking to infinity as they outran the sluggish drag of light. Luke stared blankly out into the void, completely unmoved by the spectacle which he had imagined a hundred thousand times as a boy, still locked to the dry deserts of Tatooine. Tatooine- it had been a long, long way from there to here, measure in lost souls and broken dreams rather than lightyears and parsecs…

He turned quickly away, aware that he was dropping into this melancholy state simply as a reaction to his father's visit, glancing about the featureless grey walls of the room - he never bothered to add any kind of human touch to his surroundings here; what was the point? It was in reality little more than a prison. Carefully disguised of course- Palpatine awarded his precious '_Jedi'_ the illusion of freedom but they both knew the truth... in this at least.

But there were other secrets; greater lies... Luke had, after all, learned at the feet of a master. Learned to conceal, walls within walls, to twist the truth just enough to serve his own ends. To apreciate the irony of every lesson learned.

Because the freedoms his Master so judiciously doled out when he had awarded his Jedi command of the Core System's Fleet, enabling Luke to escape the stifling restrictions of Palace life on Coruscant and his Master's close presence, were in truth granted on the strength of a lie. A lie committed three years earlier and reinforced many, many times since that fateful duel between his father and himself. A lie that Luke was more than happy to have his Master believe; he could assume whatever he wanted as long as it bought Luke the freedom he craved…

Only it was never quite that. Palpatine never let his prized 'Wolf' run completely free. He simply awarded a longer chain. And even that would be snatched back in an instant if Palpatine knew the truth; what freedoms Luke was allowed were based on Palpatine's belief that he controlled his new Sith absolutely - and in many ways he did, Luke acknowledged that fact. But one of the cornerstones of that belief was his Master's conviction that Luke had stayed the lightsaber blow that would have killed his father because of Palpatine's direct command; that _his_ order had overridden Luke's one driving desire.

The truth - and Luke had learned long ago to hide such things from his Master's searching mind - the_ real_ truth was that Palpatine's shouts and orders as that duel came to its explosive conclusion had affected Luke not one whit. If he had wanted to kill Vader he would have done so, and faced the consequences. It had, after all, been his intention when he initiated the duel.

But something else had stayed his hand that day- some hidden spark, some muted cry. He hadn't killed his father because in that moment…he couldn't. Despite everything he believed he'd thought, everything he thought still…he _couldn't_ bring himself to land that blow.

Was he weak? Yes, and he hated himself for it. But then he hated himself for so many things- this was simply one more, lost in the crowd and easy to ignore. He didn't think about them anymore. It was too hard and they were too many.

Palpatine believed him fearless because he would answer any challenge, take any risk, throw himself against any enemy without hesitation.  
"My Feral Jedi," his Master called him so indulgently, as if this were a commendation rather than a curse- "My Wild Wolf."

In truth all he craved was a quick death. The chains his Master had so diligently wrapped about his precious Jedi, mind and soul both, precluded any easier option. But if he was too bound to do the job himself, then others were queuing up for the privilege, and though his Master had taught him well, Luke had to believe that there was someone out there who was faster or more committed than himself.  
And eventually, he would face them.

He had no illusions- they were too close to hope, and that was long lost.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER TWO**

.

.

Leia leaned in, studying the image closely, Mon Mothma and General Madine doing the same.

Taken secretly from a distance with no sound, hand-held and compressed to smuggle it out, the grainy 2-D image showed three Lambda-class shuttles settling to a smooth landing, twelve of the Empire's new Interatmosperic TIE fighters overflying in tight formation as they did so. From the first two shuttles, full squads of stormtroopers marched in perfect unison- the 701st Leia recognised, from the dark blue pauldren on their shoulders. They formed two wide double-lines at the entrance ramp of the third shuttle, Neimoidia's official representatives shuffling nervously as the ramp lowered.

A man walked down, long cloak billowing in the fierce wind, high collar turned up. Following him were the same two humans who accompanied him everywhere- a tall, wide built man with dark hair and olive skin and a lithe, slim redhead with the kind of athletic frame and bearing that suggested a lifetime of training, her eyes everywhere, always tensed for action.  
The cloaked man strode forward confidently, completely at ease, indisputably in command.

Leia frowned, squinting at the image of the man she had known so well- and not at all.

"Were our people out?" she asked, eyes still on the screen.

"Yes." Mothma assured, voice uneasy, "He'll work it out though; he always does."

"It doesn't really matter- it's too late now." Madine said. "Everything's underway. They only need stall him for a few more weeks."

Leia turned on him, "And the Neimoidians?"

He looked away, contrite.

"They'll pay the price for helping us when this all kicks off." Leia said, frustrated, turning back to the image.

"And how long do you think they will _stall_ a Sith?" Mon asked absently, eyes on the image.

"There's no-one left there who was involved - he can't pull from them what they don't know." Madine murmured, thoughts as ever on the greater mission.

The cloaked man stood before the Neimoidians, who all bowed nervously - with good reason, Leia knew. She frowned in scrutiny as he waved one hand in dismissal or refusal, cutting them off, speaking briefly to the assembled dignitaries and planetary representatives before walking through them, forcing them to step aside submissively, heads down, body language apprehensive and anxious; whatever he had said, it had panicked them.

He walked from the landing platform without looking back, stormtroopers filing in behind him. At its edge he paused, turning his head to the side, waiting for the slim redhead to catch up. She did so, raising on the balls of her feet as she was little more than shoulder-high to him. He spoke, gesturing with his hand… pointing _directly_ into the long-distance lens filming him. He kept his gaze on it for a few seconds more, the redhead pulling a comm from her belt and glancing up.

Obviously realising that his cover was blown, the agent who was filming stood to make a hasty retreat, the view of the landing field shaking wildly and twisting to its side, giving a fleeting image of the camouflaged hide he'd been in, incoming fighters visible in a momentary glimpse of the sky.

"They bombed the bluff he was on, but our agent managed to get out." Mon Mothma reached down to reverse the image as she spoke, rocking it forward again to play out from the moment The Commander had stalked through the assembled dignitaries, making them back away deferentially.

Leia frowned in scrutiny, eyes on… whoever he was; certainly not the name he had once used here; Luke Skywalker's past trailed into nothing when the Bothans had tried to track it back three years earlier, just months after he'd inexplicably shown up in Cloud City. He was looking up the lens again now, giving Leia the unnerving feeling that he was staring straight at her. "He's so.…"

"Different." Mon Mothma finished at last, watching the soundless recording, the image enhanced and the shake stabilised to give it clarity. This was as close as they got to him now- as close as anyone got to him. "Changed. Or perhaps not at all - perhaps this was always his true self."

"Do you think he was ever one of us?" Leia asked, the slightest tremor of hope in her voice even now.

Madine slowly shook his head, "Think about it- think about what he could do and where he said he came from. His abilities and his background just didn't add up."

"Why didn't we question it at the time?" Leia asked, then in answer to her own query, she murmured, "He seemed so…genuine. So sincere."

"So did Palpatine before he took office." Mon Mothma replied, unmoved.

Leia sighed, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear, still unable to believe she had been fooled so completely, almost three years after Luke had returned to the Emperor.

Madine shook his head slowly "He has to be Vader's son - he's so like him." It was one fact they'd never managed to substantiate, rumours abounding that he was the Sith Lord's son. But then there were just as many which linked him to an even greater threat-

"No-" Mothma said, eyes narrowing in consideration, "Like the Emperor."

.

"I thought you'd have been in the Command Centre today." Leia said casually to Han over dinner, sat on the pressed plassteel seats of the mess hall. They were tired to the bone, but this was their only remaining opportunity to steal any real block of time together when they were both at least partway awake. Han's promotion to A-Wing's Flight Commander had caused all kinds of complications, not least of all the fact that Leia knew he'd be Unit Commander in another year or so, which meant that even this time would be taken away by duties and commitments.

She glanced down unenthusiastically at her plate. "There were some new images of The Commander from the Bothans. He's backtracked Madine's operation to Neimoidia already. They've covered their presence there and the fact that they were supplying us with technology from the manufacturing plants at the Kuat shipyards, but losing that source will slow us down… it's months of planning up the…"

"The kid? How's he doin'?" Han turned, face lighting. He'd never accepted the truth, Leia knew; he'd always believe that Luke was… Luke.

Leia shrugged, "Sharp as ever. And he's not a kid, he's twenty-five."

Han grinned, clearly speaking of an old friend as much as Leia felt she was now speaking of an old enemy. "Ah, he'll always be the kid to me, you know that."

She frowned, annoyed more at his determination to still speak of Luke in such terms than at his belief. But it was an old fight, and everything had been argued into exhaustion long ago, leaving their only option in this instance to agree to disagree. "He's the same age as me- am I a kid?"

Han leaned sideways to kiss her on the cheek, "No, you're a doll, sweetie."

"Suckup." she teased, unable to hide her amusement.

"Pushover." He grinned, tensing his arm against her incoming fist.

They each turned to their meals in silence for a few minutes, but Leia knew Han wouldn't let it go so easily- he just _couldn't_. Even now.

"I'm just saying-" He glanced up from his plate, weaving the food on his fork around before him, "That he's never done a thing against us - never lifted a hand."

"Because he's in command of the Core Systems, you know that." Leia reminded easily; the Core Systems were hardly the kind of place that the Alliance liked to be operating- especially now.

Han shrugged, unmoved "Whatever. All I'm saying is its pretty convenient; the one thing that I think Palpatine couldn't force him to do just happens to be the one thing he's not required to."

"For a cynic, you have a very gullible side." Leia accused lightly.

"I'm serious - name one time that he's actually come after us. He stops us, but that's it… he never follows up and finishes the job. Which is pretty rare for him, you gotta admit - he doesn't generally leave unfinished business, doesn't leave an enemy at his back... unless it suits him somehow. This Neimoidian thing will get handed over to Vader, you'll see."

"Because Vader's in charge of the counter-insurrection taskforce." Leia said, "He always has been."

"And Luke's in charge of the Core Systems and the Colonies. Neimoidia's _his_ responsibility- doesn't that make it his jurisdiction?" Han countered.

"I'm not going to argue with you over this again." Leia said, tired of covering the same ground. Maybe because it upset her so much; it stung that she'd trusted Luke so completely- and been wrong. Been hurt. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of beings she'd actually trusted that much - and she could count with just one finger the ones she'd been wrong about; one. Luke Skywalker.

It never stopped hurting…and she could never figure why.

.

.

.

**CHAPTER THREE**

.

.

Mara let not the slightest hint of triumph show on her face as the sabacc cards changed again, giving her the nine. Along with the four cards she had in the interference field, that totalled twenty-three - and a winning hand.

She was sat in Skywalker's quarters onboard the Peerless, the stars streaking past as they headed back to Coruscant, the Neimoidian incident suppressed and settled in less than four weeks - quite an accomplishment, ever for Skywalker. The price had been a month of very long days and _very_ short nights if he rested at all, not one break taken from his duties, pursued to obsession as they always were with Skywalker. But he'd achieved the unthinkable; put down a planned insurrection, broken a specialist Alliance saboteur ring trained and re-established Imperial control with the minimum of resentment and maximum long-term efficacy.

Despite his rank in the Rebellion, Mara had held her doubts when her master had appointed Skywalker Commander in Chief of the Core Systems Military, but she'd learned to respect his judgement as again and again he'd proved his worth, both in small, frantic skirmishes and complex, system-wide insurrections. The huge amount of knowledge that Palpatine had imposed on him in his enforced incarceration when he'd first arrived on Coruscant must have crystallized it, but that kind of leadership required some innate abilities which couldn't be taught. The Rebellion had lost more than they knew when they'd abandoned Skywalker to the Emperor. But their loss - carefully manipulated by her master - was the Empire's gain, and Mara had developed a genuine respect for The Commander.

Did it make her job more difficult? No- they were both aware of what she was and why she was here, and each was professional enough to respect that. Palpatine trusted nobody; it wasn't in his nature, they both knew that- and neither were prepared to allow it to limit their friendship, which suited Mara perfectly.

Now, finally, they were off-duty - or as much so as the Commander ever was - so naturally, he was playing Sabacc… again. She glanced up at Skywalker. His expression had changed not a whit with the interference field's action. This time, she had him!

"I bet…fifty." She said at last, her voice very casual, tinged with the slightest hint of carefully-feigned self-doubt.

Which nontheless brought his eyes up, "Why, what do you have?"

"Put your credit down and I'll show you." Mara challenged, casually placing the nine face down in the interference field to freeze its value as she slid her own credits forward.

Luke looked down at it now, narrowing his eyes, "You don't have anything."

"Care to bet on that?"

He lifted his chin just slightly- which meant he was considering it, Mara knew. She knew him well now; almost three years of playing sabacc over countless tables had granted her that, as well as accompanying him on endless missions at her master's command. The Emperor had never rescinded his original order to Mara charging her with responsibility for Skywalker, and she still took it as seriously as she took every command from the Emperor, becoming Skywalker's de-facto bodyguard as well as his Aide. And his watcher of course; along with Reece- Palpatine trusted no-one. Mara still occasionally wondered who her watcher was…

"Fifty…?" he asked now, bringing her mind back to the game, her face a neutral mask, knowing he would be looking for subtle clues. He always did- in life and on the sabacc table. He played selectively, choosing with care the hands he betted on but betting aggressively when he did, not afraid to put his funds where his faith was. And every now and then, just to keep her on her toes, he'd bluff big style, always waiting until there were lots of chip-cards in the field, lots of possibilities in play. In life and on the sabacc table.

He narrowed his eyes at her now, running his free hand through loose, unruly curls to pull them from his face as he searched Mara's neutral expression looking for those clues. Use of the Force was strictly prohibited in their games, but in truth she couldn't really tell whether he did or not, her own abilities far too limited. Still, he claimed he didn't and Mara believed him- whatever else he was, he was still a man of his word.

"_It defeats the object of the game." He'd maintained, when she accused him once.  
_"_I don't believe you- the temptation's too great…and you always like to win." She'd charged.  
_"_I didn't say I didn't want to win."  
_"_And you never play by the rules." Mara added, remembering the countless times he had subtly adapted or worked the Emperor's direct command around his own needs, knowing that this had become a larger conversation now  
_"_I play by my rules- you simply don't know them." He'd said, humour in his voice, purposely keeping the conversation light, as he always did with her._

"You don't have it." he repeated now. Mara lifted her eyebrows in expectant silence.

"…… One hundred." he said after a long pause, his voice issuing a hesitant question as he pushed the gently chinking pile of credits forward.

Mara's heart did a little flip at that - was _he_ bluffing? Drawing her out? Or did he believe she was bluffing and he was trying to make her back down? He had three cards in the field, and they'd been locked in there for three rounds now… plus the table had just flipped the cards he held- had it given him a hand too?

_What are you worried about, Jade- you have pure sabacc?!_

"Fine." She pushed her chips forward, slapping the flat of her palm on the pulse-generator to stop it and freeze the cards at their present value. Then she reached down and turned her field-cards, a note of triumph in her voice, "Pure sabacc."

"Ah." Luke said lightly, turning the mismatched chip-cards in his hand over as he placed them down, Mara reaching for the credits, triumphant. "Array." He said simply, freezing her mid-reach.

"What!?" she reached out for his cards in the field, turning them over; the two, the three…and The Idiot face card grinned back at her. "Son of a…you've had those in there for ages- why didn't you play them?"

"I was waiting for you to put some serious currency down - I don't get an Array very often; I have to make the most of it." he said, amusement breaking through that detached calm- probably at the look on her face, Mara mused.

She slammed down the cards, as if it would make any difference. "You are _so_ lucky at cards…"

"I like to think there's a little skill involved." he said, that perfect neutral façade slipping just a little, giving her a glimpse of Luke Skywalker behind the stony face of Palpatine's precious Sith. "You know what they say- lucky at cards…" he shrugged lightly, stepping up from the table without bothering to take the credits scattered there, knowing they wouldn't play again tonight.

Walking toward the side table where he'd left his drink he paused with his back to Mara, looking out into the glowing void of hyperspace. Probably because he'd realised that he'd let his guard drop just a little, Mara realised, and was uncomfortable with it, even in front of her. Though she didn't know why; she knew him better than anyone else- had seen him in pieces in the Palace cells when Palpatine's wrath was on him. She never judged him; she'd learned that from him-  
Palpatine, her master as well as his- Palpatine always judged, and never kindly.

She glanced up at him, taking in the sight as she always did. He was slim and strong and… and she should stop that thought right there. Instead she spoke out, knowing the rest of the rhyme; "Unlucky in love."

"No- very rich." he said easily, turning those sharp sky-blue eyes toward her.

She took her leave around an hour later, Skywalker claiming tiredness, though Mara knew he was nothing of the sort. She would get a call in an hour or so from whoever was on watch to let her know that The Commander had returned to the Bridge and was working in his ready-room, as he often did well into the early hours of the morning. Or perhaps that he was in one of the exercise bays with his lightsaber, or that he had entered the 701st's restricted hold, or summoned the unit commander's to his quarters.  
Whatever; he wouldn't sleep, she knew that. She could see that in his eyes, no matter how many times he beat her at sabacc.

He hadn't so much quietened down over the past few years as become more circumspect, more cautious in what he allowed to show and before whom, as Palpatine invested ever more time year on year in creating his perfect advocate. Emotions were something to be exploited in his Master's eyes, as well as in the treacherous Court which Luke was so often forced to endure on Coruscant.

Oftentimes he was calm, confident and centred, the Emperor's Dark Jedi, absolutely in command of himself and everything about him. Yet other times, he seemed so lost, so discontent and deranged as to crumple her heart in empathy, leaving her with the unsettling impression of a wild animal caged, pacing the same short path over and over in the solitary dead of nigh like a wolf howling at the moon, desperately trying to outpace the bars which caged it, knowing it never could. But she knew with absolute certainty that if she tried to reach out to offer it comfort in these bleak times it would lash out at her as surely as if she were its captor, so blinded by frustration did it become.

Which was real and which was the front? Both and neither, as she had often told the Emperor. The changes were mercurial, and Skywalker tolerated no pity or concern- nor for that matter did the Emperor.

Did she feel any guilt at making her reports? No- she'd never hidden her reason for being here, and eyes and ears were everywhere, Skywalker knew that. Though Mara knew she was among them, she at least prided herself on holding some sense of honour and integrity. And she knew Skywalker appreciated this; that he too held to his own moral code, skewed though it was. In this they were, she supposed, kindred spirits.

Which was as close as Skywalker came to genuine friendship these days.

.

.

.

"I'm just sayin'," Han said defensively, eyes scrunched up against the bright light of hyperspace, pouring in from the viewscreen behind Leia's office desk and creating a diffuse halo affect about her, "What about the Death Star?"

Leia frowned from her cluttered desk, "Han…"

"What the hell was going on there, huh?" he interrupted, affecting his best offended, unbelieving tone, as if he felt she was surely arguing just for the sake of it, because he was patently right.

"Please-" Leia dismissed, frustration in her voice, as much at herself for being taken in so easily at the time as at Han for still holding faith now, when it was all so obviously a lie. "They needed information; a location. He broke me out so that I would lead him back to…"

"No, I'm talking about Yavin- when he blew that thing to dust. What was that about?" he was tired and cranky; everybody was.  
Blue Group had made the fourteen-day journey flying escort to supply frigates a total of nine consecutive times now, and it was beginning to wear pretty thin for Han. Much like the seat of his flight suit from countless hours spent hanging around in lightspeed in an assortment of cold, bare-board supply frigates waiting for that burst of adrenaline as the Blues launched as they exited lightspeed, waiting to see if the Empire had caught up with them yet.

"I don't _know_ why he bombed it. I don't have all the answers." Leia defended without looking up.

"That's a pretty big answer missing, sweetheart- 'cos that was one of the most expensive fireworks I ever saw."

She shrugged, anger quickly waning, tired of going over the same argument yet again. She had so much to do; they were trying to set up new bases on Rishi and Ord Biniir, almost a galaxy apart in terms of creating and sustaining supply lines. The last bases were out of the Core Systems now, no longer sustainable under pressure from the Imperial Fleet- under Skywalker's command, no matter what Han claimed to the contrary. But then Luke had always been an exceptional Commander even when he was here, hiding his true identity. He had the knack of seeing the greater picture, keeping his mind on the end goal, willing to use unanticipated, unorthodox means to achieve it. Madine, a tactical mastermind himself, always had such faith in him; _'Outstanding aptitude'_, he'd always quoted- _'he'll go far'_. Leia laughed mirthlessy at that; he hadn't been wrong.

Han was still sat on the edge of Leia's desk looking at her expectantly, and she glanced up at him, hoping that he would take the hint that she was too busy to go through this again, "Ackbar wondered if it had some basic flaw."

"Seemed to work pretty good to me." Han replied- and instantly regretted it at the haunted look in her mahogany-brown eyes. "Sorry- I'm sorry."

She shook her head, nothing to say against those memories. All of them- Alderaan, imprisonment… Vader.

And Luke- once again the rumours were doing the circuits; that he was Vader's son… was it true? The son of the man who had tortured her on the death star. The man who'd stood behind her and watched her world, her people, _everything_ destroyed. Was it_ his son_ who had come to her in her darkest hour, claiming to be her saviour, knowing…_knowing_ what his father had done.

Knowing that if he could deceive her, she'd lead him back to the Alliance base.

How could she have been so stupid?

How could he have been so cruel?

.

.

.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

.

.

General Veers didn't turn when an Aide entered the Emperor's Private Audience Chamber behind him- one did not turn one's back on the Emperor.

It was rare that the Super Star Destroyer Executor, Lord Vader's command and flagship of the Rim Fleet, came to Coruscant, but they had been recalled a few weeks earlier, though if Lord Vader knew the reason, he had chosen not to mention it to Veers- as had Emperor Palpatine in this private audience. Veers had made all his official reports of course, but this unofficial one was always made directly to the Emperor.

He was always invited to a private audience with Emperor Palpatine when on Coruscant - just to clarify that he was one of Palpatine's more valued agents in the field. Which was good, because Veers was an ambitious man, much like the man who left the Emperor's Audience Chamber before him, passing Veers as he waited patiently in the antechamber beyond. Beladon D'Arca, head of the powerful D'Arca family, strode by without a sideways glance, a contented smile on his smug face.  
The D'Arca's sphere of influence ranged from connections by marriage into many prominent Royal Houses through to impressive military ties, with several family members awarded the rank of Moffs and Admirals, as well as maintaining extensive industrial links everywhere form the Core to the Rim, which kept them in the extravagant style to which they were so very accustomed.  
They were fervent supporters of Emperor Palpatine; had been since the days of the waning Republic, willingly providing any backing in whichever form was required. As such, they'd remained always in the Emperor's favour and had prospered tremendously, favoured inter-system industrial contracts and auspicious military careers proof of their continued favour in Court.

What exactly had pleased D'Arca so very much today Veers didn't know, but he was sure it was in the Emperor's interest too, since when he entered the Audience Chamber, it was to a very self-satisfied Palpatine, smiling a yellow-toothed grin to no-one but himself .  
Now, when Mas Amedda bowed formally before Palpatine at the edge of the dais and waited to be acknowledged before passing on his information, the Emperor grinned once more.

"My Jedi is in orbit." Palpatine announced contentedly to Amedda, who bowed in acknowledgement.

"Yes Excellency. His exact whereabouts however, is unknown."

"Explain." The Sith Master said, voice hardening.

"I contacted the Peerless and requested to speak to him, but was answered by Lieutenant Commander Reece, who stated that The Commander was unavailable at this time. I informed him that an official military reception had been prepared on the Palace landing platform and requested The Commanders projected arrival time and shuttle designation and he became… evasive."

To Veer's surprise, the Emperor seemed not in the least perturbed by this, the first signs of a grin tugging at the corners of his thin, cracked lips. "And where is he?"

"He has apparently taken an Interat TIE Interceptor and is… en-route to the Palace. I understand that Commander Jade followed." Amedda said neutrally.

The Emperor laughed out loud at this, completely unconcerned. "Inform my errant Jedi that I will see him upon his arrival."

As Amedda bowed and left, Palpatine turned again to his favoured General, taking the opportunity to address this point. "You seem…perturbed, my friend?" he invited.

"Forgive me, Excellency. I find I am perhaps a little… uncomfortable with The Commander's often… unorthodox actions." Veers explained politely, knowing better than to lie to his Emperor, but wishing to remain politic, knowing The Commander's favoured position.

"You disapprove of my feral Jedi?" the Emperor said , cutting through Veers' politeness.

The General bowed his head just slightly, "I acknowledge The Commander's tactical skills of course - I respect them very much - I simply… struggle with this… impulsive unpredictability. I find Your Excellency's disposition is far more indulgent than my own."

Palpatine still smiled, settling back; yes, he was indulgent with the boy- sometimes far too much so. But then, when he did use force, it was also without bounds.

"He is a Sith, my friend. All Sith need to be handled with due care." Palpatine said easily; Skywalker was still the wild thing pulling at his leash, and the Emperor knew full well that if he were to pull too hard or too often in return then every exchange would become a battle of wills. "He simply needs to stretch his wings. Now, he'll return to the Palace without trouble."

Veers nodded without truly understanding - how could he? How could anyone without an ability in the Force hope to comprehend the complexities and subtleties which existed within it? But he could perhaps grasp at its edges, which was important, because Palpatine had a place for him in his future Empire- and to fulfil it the General needed to see some glimpse at the larger picture, carefully distilled down into something he could revere.

"You should start learning how to deal with this particular Sith, General- he will rule my Empire when I am no more."

Veers raised his eyes, shocked, but Palpatine only smiled. "Do you find it so surprising that I should plan for my Empire to continue long after I'm gone? Or did you perhaps think I would hand it over to Vader?" Palpatine smiled, noting the subtle shift in Veer's sense with his realisation that he was, if not backing, then certainly giving empty lipservice to the wrong contender. "That would destroy it. Vader isn't strong enough to control my feral Jedi - he doesn't have the will to hold him in check. The legacy I have begun to build would crumble in just a few years. The moment I died, Skywalker would leave the Palace, taking anyone who remained loyal to him with him - and there would be many; he has built a solid base in the military - yourself excepted. It would divide my Empire in two and Skywalker would rip apart what was left in taking control from Vader - he would _never_ accept him as Emperor - but he _would_ take control in the end, despite Vader probably holding the greatest number of forces in my name."

Veers stared in open surprise- that The Commander would take power by force, that his Emperor was telling him this…

"No," Palpatine continued casually, voice little more than a murmur, as if lost in thought, "My Jedi will be Heir to the Empire. Only that will hold him and keep him here." It would be the only thing which would have held Palpatine in similar conditions, and as much as he told the boy he was his father's son, he now very much reminded Palpatine of himself. He would provide Palpatine's Empire with the power and the focus it needed to withstand any threat. And he would provide it with an all-important heir- a natural chain of succession. A Sith dynasty which would endure generations- in Palpatine's name.

"It's natural selection" Palpatine offered to Veers at last, "The strongest wolf will lead the pack."

Veers was silent, and Palpatine turned to him after a few seconds, knowingly. "You're wondering if that natural selection will cut in a little sooner- if my protégé will challenge _my_ leadership?" He shrugged, supremely confident. "In all likelyhood he will- and I shall put this down decisively and without compunction, as I do any dissent. When one teaches a lesson, one should do it in a manner that will never be forgotten, otherwise one must teach the same lesson again and again."  
The Emperor held yellow-flecked eyes on Veers, his gaze as sharp as ever, "I am not weak; when the challenge comes I will be ready. And it will- he would not be worthy as my Heir if he did not test those bounds." He turned away, self-assured as ever, "Yes, he has the power to lead you- as only a Sith can. To continue my Empire in my name, as I have decreed."

Now was the moment- to clarify Veers' part in this, to instil some sense of genuine commitment in the ambitious General, all be it self-serving. Enough to perhaps get him past Skywalker's close radar and into his trusted elite.

"If you were wise, General, you would look to beginning some kind of dialogue with your future leader. By the time he takes the throne, his own power base will be in place and there will be no room for latecomers. A request for transfer to the Core System Fleet and the Peerless would not be looked upon unfavourably." Palpatine let this final point dangle before he turned pointedly to Veers, confident and assured, "But remember who leads you now - and who will do so for the foreseeable future. When he takes power, it will be because _I_ allowed it. By my decree and not before."

.

.

The massive suite of rooms named 'The Cabinet' extended over a full floor of the South Tower of the monolithic Imperial Palace, and were the working place of Palpatine's personal ministers and aides, the site where the actual act of daily government of the countless systems of the extensive, far-reaching Empire took place. Situated immediately above the vast, four storey high Throne Room where Court was held daily from early evening well into the night, the Cabinet housed two huge, lofty ante-chambers leading to the Emperor's Private Audience Chambers, as well as the Emperor's personal offices and those of his favoured few, rooms here being awarded only to the 'established'; those personal advisors who had held high office for many years.

The equally impressively-appointed Council Offices one storey below the Throne Room, where sessions of the Ruling Council were met, also boasted offices for the most favoured, these too allocated and revoked at the Emperor's whim, as were individual invitations to attend Council or Court. Like apartments in the East Tower, offices carried great import; no-one understood better than the Emperor the art of enhancing the value of a favour, and once given, the fear of having this newfound status revoked held many-a Royal House or powerful individual to silence.

On being awarded command of the Core Fleet, Luke had been allocated two offices in the prestigious Cabinet. He had never once entered them, continuing to work in the private offices within his own apartments or those long-since allocated to him within the War Cabinet in the North Tower. Whether the Emperor knew this or not Luke had no idea, though he couldn't imagine Palpatine failing to note something of such import so close within his own sphere of influence. But his Master had never remarked upon it and the offices remained allocated to The Commander, their permanently closed doors visible at the end of the long corridor which stood just beyond the entrance to the ante-chamber of the Emperor's Private Audience Chamber.

It was in the gilded opulence of that scarlet-walled ante-chamber that Luke stood in uneasy silence now, waiting to see his Master, the command to attend already waiting when he had arrived on one of the small, inset landing platforms in the North Tower, successfully avoiding the pointless pomp and ceremony of an official return.

Uneasy because he'd been summoned to the Private Audience Chamber- the cavernous room where he had fought his father years earlier. It wasn't the first time he'd returned here of course; he'd been here many times at the summons of the Emperor, but it never failed to send some burst of emotion through him. Regret, frustration, confusion- he didn't know; didn't care to look too closely. He only knew it was here where he fell - truly fell. Where he lost his way so completely. He had fallen far earlier in many ways, he knew. He was already in that cage; had built the bars which held him. But the day that he'd fought his father- that was the day those bars fell away… and he stayed.

Did he want to be here? No. did he trust Palpatine? Absolutely not. Could he leave? Never.  
Because Palpatine had invested a great deal of effort in ensuring there was simply nowhere left to go. Wherever he went Palpatine would hunt him down. On his own, trying to cover his tracks, Luke knew he would never outrun or elude his Master- Palpatine simply knew him too well; knew his _sense_, his presence in the force, and Luke knew his connection was such that he would be detectable even if he tried to hide it.

If he tried to return to the Alliance, even ignoring the fact that he was under the death penalty there as an Imperial spy - not an unwilling captive or even a defector, thanks to his Master's maneuvering, but an actual double agent - Palpatine would throw the whole fleet at it; rip it to pieces just to get him back.

Wherever he went and however he tried to hide, Palpatine would find him and bring him back, whatever the cost- he had made that absolutely clear.

Though he would never destroy his precious 'Jedi', he had made that clear too; he would simply break him to pieces and rebuild him one more time. One more grating, grinding trial; a test of torture and thresholds executed with pitiless, surgical precision or self-indulgent gratification depending on his Master's mood from moment to moment, and damned if Luke didn't even know which was worst anymore, because they too had become a part of his life, the incensed, raging outbursts and the cool, cruel manipulations.

Because somewhere along the way he had become just one more of the Emperor's possessions. Whether Palpatine _wanted_ the snarl of complications and aggravation that his precious new advocate purposely embodied was immaterial; what mattered was that Palpatine _owned_ him- which meant that nobody else did; that he would never have this power turned against him.

In an effort to control Skywalker, Palpatine gave his wolf an ever longer leash; the illusion of freedom when they both knew it was nothing of the sort. Still, they played the game, Luke remaining at first because he quite simply had no-where else to go, forcibly isolated, all other options stripped away. Then, damn himself for his own stupid weakness, then held by obligations and associations, aqcuaintances and allies formed even here. Because Palpatine had made it very clear what would happen to them should Luke steer too far from the accepted path. Besides; he had become used to the situation. It had become, Force help him, the norm.

So he walked the knife-edge between opportunistic dissent and resenting obedience, taking the opportunities wherever they were available, living his life in the gaps between his Master's overbearing, incontestable presence as his father had said he would learn to do.

And just as Luke had stated to his father three years earlier, it was no life at all.

Still, in some private corner of is mind he felt he deserved no better… and his Master knew this and used it and treated him accordingly.

And slowly, the lines of battle and tolerance had been drawn on both sides, the contentious, often explosive disagreements which had marked his early interactions with his Master mellowing now and settling out into a subtler game as experience taught him the futility of open conflict.  
The basic rules of the game hadn't changed; Luke still found a large proportion of his Master's conduct and commands offensive and Palpatine still steamrollered over his unease as if it were simply not there, dragging Luke along by force of will. But slowly the dissents came smaller and fewer and Palpatine's resultant retribution less violent, though it irked Luke to think that the two were linked.

He had long ago stopped trying to look at his motives; the reason was always too uncomfortable to consider, because either he had grown tired of the constant battle and now gave ground more often simply out of defeated indifference, or he had simply grown used to his role here, jaded cynicism rendering what had once seemed outrageous demands on his Master's part insignificant. What discomfort Luke still held he clung to, all the more so because it had become so easily ignorable, just one more drop in a sea of misgivings, leaving the distasteful suspicion that he had not so much surrendered to his role here as he had perhaps grown into it.

But there had been at least some concessions on his Master's part, because Luke's time away from the Palace and the Emperor's manipulations had increased steadily, and he knew that wasn't by his Master's choice. And occasionally Palpatine did now defer on a point of contention.  
Victories were small here - one took what one could… and planned.

.

The tall, ornately-carved doors of the Audience Chamber whispered open and Veers - one of his father's Generals - walked out, turning as he saw Luke and pausing momentarily to click his heels together and incline his head deeply in a smart, military bow. Luke only watched him, expressionless, filing the fact that he was here at all away for later consideration.

Chancellor Amedda stepped out and inclined his head just slightly in invitation as Luke turned away from the departing General. He took one last clean, clear breath of air and put the thoughts and doubts he connected with this haunted place carefully away behind mental shields - they were his alone and not for his Master's scrutiny.

Then he stepped forward.

.

Palpatine's feral Jedi walked calmly the length of the long room, taking the steps at its midway point without looking either left or right, keeping his eyes on his Master. But he knew, Palpatine could tell - he knew already that something was wrong. Perhaps because the room was empty save for Amedda, and when he was to be chastised, it was always behind closed doors. There was no public discord between the Emperor and his Jedi.  
When he reached the throne, Luke stepped smoothly down onto one knee, the slightest hint of uneasy resentment colouring his sense. He'd never grown used to this as his father had- _chose_ never to do so.

"The Neimoidian insurgency has been dealt with Master. The plot was unsuccessful and all of the military factories remain intact. Marshal law has been imposed on the Northern Continent only, but I foresee few problems. It will be relaxed within the month with only curfews and weapons restrictions remaining."

Palpatine remained silent as his Jedi spoke, studying him without really listening to his words - there was no need; he would have done as ordered or he would not yet have returned. And what he had not done, Palpatine already knew.

So he watched, admiring again his Wolf. Admiring those cold blue eyes, like ice in twilight. His wild hair was raked loosely back from his remarkably youthful face, long enough to twist into disarray, dark against pale skin. Scarred now, as he hadn't been when he'd first arrived here- mentally as well as physically. But then it suited him, gave him a dark edge to temper that naive countenance; depth and interest where before he had been unpolished and artless.

When he finished speaking, he made to stand, and Palpatine brought his mind to the moment.

"I have not given you permission to rise, Jedi." he said, the slightest hint of cold threat in his voice.

The boy froze - then settled dutifully back into position, his jaw tightening just slightly.

"You met with your father." Palpatine prompted curtly.

"My father met with me." The boy corrected, not lifting his head.

"For what reason?"

"He believes there is a spy working onboard the Peerless." This wasn't the time to be playing games, but Luke couldn't resist.

"Indeed?" Palpatine said blandly. But Luke noted from the corner of his vision that his Master placed his gaunt, pale hand before his mouth in a considered gesture, as he often did when lying, "And who would that be?"

Luke didn't hesitate, "His name is Drea Vose. He's an engineer."

Palpatine settled back slightly, his hand lowering at the reprieve. "Is Lord Vader correct?"

"Forgive me- he _was_ an engineer." Luke corrected smoothly, setting a mental reminder to communicate the name to his father as soon as possible - for his own protection rather than Vader's.

"Then the matter is dealt with?"

"Yes, Master."

"And you are sure he was working alone?"

Oh, the temptation was just too great; "One must always remain vigilant, Master."

Palpatine narrowed his eyes at that, then settled again just slightly. "What of the ringleaders on Neimoidia?"

His Jedi tensed just slightly at the change in topic, the action visible in the changing folds of his cloak. He had changed before meeting with Palpatine in an effort to diffuse what he knew would be a problematic meeting, wearing more traditional black robes rather than his customary military-cut suit, in a subtle expression of deference. It was discreet and understated, but he knew that the Emperor would not fail to have noticed. "The Rebels were already gone, Master. I passed their identities…"

"The Neimoidians." Palpatine cut in. The boy did not raise his head though he knew he'd been found out - then again, he knew he would be; there were few secrets here and this was not exactly concealable. All he didn't know was the extent of his punishment.

"They were dismissed from office. New leaders of a more…"

"I gave the command to kill the ringleaders."

"They were not the ringleaders, Master. They were merely…"

"I did not _ask_ for your opinion. Merely your obedience."

"You ordered that the ringleaders…"

"Don't argue semantics with me. You _chose_ to interpret my command as it suited you- you knew exactly what I had ordered."

"Yes Master." the boy grated.

The Emperor sat in silence, staring at the kneeling form for a long time, considering.

"Perhaps you should stay a while and consider your actions, Jedi." Palpatine said at last in dry tones, and the boy shifted uneasily at the implied insult in that designation, though he didn't look up.

Palpatine turned to Amedda, "Chancellor- the disruption on Bimmisari?"

Luke remained in genuflection, one knee on the hard marble floor, one arm resting on the bent knee which was not, eyes fixed on the point at which the dais raised in carved relief from the main floor. So long that his muscles trembled, his spine cramped and his ribs ached. But he did not move- wouldn't give Palpatine the satisfaction of seeing him do so.

Time trickled slowly by, the sun pushing shadows across the vast, ostentatious room as he stared resolutely at the floor before him, beginning to call on the Force to maintain the awkward position. By early afternoon, Palpatine had found four opportunities to scold Luke for distracting him when Luke had attempted to resettle his weight, moving even slightly. Now the Emperor stood a good distance away at the huge arched windows which stretched to the vaulted and fluted extravagance of the gilded ceiling, gazing silently out into the distant metropolis, his next audience not yet admitted.

No longer the subject of his Master's attention, Luke leaned back just slightly onto his haunches in an attempt to still trembling muscles, and Palpatine turned on him.

"Are you incapable of so simple-an act?" he bit out venomously, "You've knelt so often that I would expect it to be second nature by now. It's where you belong, lest you forget."

Luke turned slowly, even this slight movement lighting fireworks down the tense muscles of his spine.

"Isn't it?" Palpatine provoked, meeting his feral Jedi's eye.

Luke held that gaze for long seconds, knowing he could so easily push this over into a genuine fight… "Yes, Master." He allowed at last, though they both knew it cost him.

Palpatine only smiled, voice amused and mocking now, "You bitter little creature. I made you everything that you are- you were _nothing_ without me."

"I'm nothing anyway Master- isn't that what you always say?" There was the barest hint of defiance in his voice- but it was enough to ignite Palpatine's anger again.

"Don't _dare_ think to challenge me!" his voice dropped from wild yell to threatening growl as he stalked forward, lips pulled back over spoiled teeth, hands held loosely before him, fingers stretched out as he disappeared behind Luke's view, the threat implicit in his action.

Luke remained still, reaching out with his senses, searching for the familiar sharp mental buzz of Force lightening being summoned into razor-sharp focus, his stance tightening in unwilling response.

Instead a strong hand grabbed at his hair, nails scraping his scalp, yanking his head back, "You _are_ nothing! An irrelevant amusement for a powerful man. Everything that I grant you I can take away- position, power, freedom… life."

Head held tightly back, the boy met his gaze without struggling, no real fear in his eyes, even in the face of this. But Palpatine knew how to slice through that indifference. "And everyone around you." The Sith growled pointedly, leaning close. "Do you understand?"

Skywalker held his gaze for long moments before he broke at that, turning his eyes down though they were still as defiant as ever.

"Yes Master." he said at last, another hard capitulation.

Palpatine released him, turning away, voice scathing. "You're weak. How many times have I told you that if you allow yourself a vulnerability, people will use it against you?"

Luke said nothing, face a mask, boiling with frustration inside.

"Do _I _have a weakness?" Palpatine goaded, and Luke almost said it - _almost_ turned and said it; _'Yes-me._'

He_ wanted _to do it- just to see what his Master would do. Because they both knew it was true. Instead, aware of how close to the edge he was skating, he maintained his silence.

"Clearly it would do you well to stay a while yet and consider what I have just said." Palpatine ordered as he turned away, not yet feeling he had made his point…

.

And the day wore on, Palpatine remaining in his Private Audience Chamber attending to matters of State, his errant Jedi remaining on one knee before the throne, back straight, eyes set on the middle distance, calling the Force to him to maintain the unnatural, awkward position, his mind eventually wandering, no matter how unwillingly, back to Palpatine's words.

He was nothing. His Master hurled this fact at him over and over with such absolute certainty. Had done so since Luke had first been imprisoned in the cell beneath the palace- when he'd still naïvely believed that he had some kind of choice…that he could change anything at all. That Palpatine's will wasn't absolute. Every time he wavered, every time he faltered, every time he hesitated; who was he to question? He was _nothing_.

He was nothing. Not even himself; even this his Master claimed; his name, his will… his soul, in due course, just like his father. He existed only to serve, to fulfil Palpatine's expectations, despite his continued rebukes and punishments.

This was his life now, to stand by his Master, prey to his commands and coercions and volatile, mercurial temper. Perhaps that would never stop;

He sighed against the trembling muscles of his aching ribs, resigned to the realisation. It didn't matter- very little did anymore.

.

By mid-afternoon he was well past discomfort, his whole body beginning to tremble, spasms causing short, jerky movements as the bunched muscles of his stomach, back and legs tensed to cramping every few moments in dire complaint, his breath coming harder now, diaphragm compressed against the rigid tension required to maintain the position. But he remained silent, remained focused.

Palpatine allowed three private audiences to prolong the day, each representative walking forward and coming to an uneasy stop beside the silent, kneeling man, each invited to rise when they had knelt, none daring to make comment on the Emperor's Jedi, Palpatine conducting the audience as if the boy was not there at all, watching the representatives trying without success to hide their furtive, nervous sideways glances.

And all the time, his Jedi stared resolutely ahead.

Finally his Aides were dismissed and the Emperor stood for a short time staring out over the city as the sun dipped below the line of distant buildings, before walking slowly back to his throne to sit, taking his time to settle before, at length, bringing his eyes back to his Jedi. He watched him in silence for a short while. Watched the headstrong determination in those hooded eyes which would not meet his, watched his muscles trembling with fatigue, watched his chest rise in short, sharp breaths.

"You are _so_ stubborn." he observed at last, amused and exasperated in the same breath. "How can you be this obstinate over so small-a thing?"

The boy remained looking steadfastly ahead, jaw clamped tight, head tilted forward slightly at the continued effort.

"Why did you not simply kill them?" Because he knew, Palpatine reflected; he _knew_ there'd be a price for his disobedience; there always was. It never stopped him.

"It was unnecessary." the boy said at last, between clenched teeth. "At the very least it would have fed the Rebellion's cause with a new surge of outraged idealists ready to fight. At worst, it would have caused riots which would have spread civil disorder across the continent and probably the planet; it would have taken months to fully subdue and reinstate order, and countless troops would have had to be committed to the action. As it is the leaders are gone now and there is nothing to react _against_. The situation will dissipate within weeks."

"Have I taught you nothing, Jedi?" Palpatine dismissed easily, bringing the boys eyes momentarily up to his own.

He still revelled in calling him that, knowing how it stung; his fallen Jedi, his feral Jedi his dark Jedi… his Jedi. _His_. He had given the boy no other name, though he had taken his true name away long ago. Now this was all that was left; his Jedi, his Wolf, Commander of his fleet. But nothing more. Let them whisper and guess. The boy would never tell the truth; he did not care for his own past and was no longer bothered what name people gave him.

He knew what he was, no matter how much he disliked it.

Palpatine frowned at this; had it been mercy which had driven him to disobey, or logic, as he claimed? He had killed many times at his Master's command - and always with such savage grace, like setting a hunting-bird free - so why had he held back this time? He still occasionally had the power to surprise his Master, even three years after his arrival… which was why he remained of interest- of value.

"Never hesitate." Palpatine admonished, leaning forward indulgently. "It is your greatest weakness- conquer it or your enemies will conquer you _with_ it. Anyone who can get the better of you will do so- it is basic nature, pack mentality. Someone will always seek to challenge you. If you react swiftly and violently to make examples, people will remember and you will not be forced to repeat the same lessons again and again."

"Yes Master." The boy said levelly without meeting Palpatine's eye.

"Conquer your flaws, my friend. Or I will do it for you."

The boy brought his head up at that, knowing…

Palpatine only shrugged elaborately, "The Neimoidian sympathisers you left free were rounded up and killed this morning on my order. If there is rioting in the streets, then perhaps next time I shall not make you kneel quite so long."

He rose, satisfied that he had proved his point; disobeying was not only painful but pointless, the futility of even this small dispute underlined.

Walking slowly past his Jedi, cane in hand, Palpatine paused without looking down to pat the kneeling boy on the shoulder. "Don't make me remind you again. Today I found it amusing, given what is about to transpire. Next time I will not be so indulgent."

He walked from the room and the silent, kneeling man, his cane tak-takking on the cold marble floor.

When the doors closed, Luke collapsed down, burning, biting cramps searing at this final release, agonising as blood returned to numb muscles.

He sat alone for a long time on the Audience-Chamber floor …for the simple reason that he was unable to stand.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FIVE**

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Stood before the bank of tall windows in the private rooms within his sprawling apartments, Luke remained silent before his father's words, tired, at low ebb, wishing him to leave. The room was barely lit, and he stared out into the ever-moving lights of the Capital planet, Vader's voice a bass background tone which rumble at the edge of his awareneness.

Reece, Luke's Aide and a scarce ally here, had remained discretely in the room beyond, his presence a wash of concern and disapproval as Luke spoke with his father. Having now passed on everything which was necessary to maintain his deceit to the Emperor, Luke now simply wished Vader gone before one of them lashed out at the other, as they always did when their obstinate wills eventually clashed.

It was well past midnight and much as he disliked it, he had been forced to speak to his father, Vader answering Luke's unspoken nudge in the Force and coming to his apartments. If it had been safe to pass the information on through a third party then Luke would have done so without hesitation, but each extra person in the chain was one more possible double-agent and even a trusted ally could be easily read by the Emperor, so that, distasteful as Luke found it, he had contacted his father directly.

That they were seen to have met was unfortunate but unavoidable here in the Palace, so it was better to do so out in the open rather than try to hide it at all. Still, Luke had limited the damage as much as possible, admitting Vader to private rooms within the vast Perlemian Apartments, his designated residence in the West Tower of the Palace. The three private rooms set together in the corner of the sprawling, extensive quarters were his only safe haven within the Palace, all surveillance equipment here rendered inoperative. Every time he left the Palace with the Fleet, the devices were carefully restored or reactivated from the empty levels above and below his apartments, and every time he returned, Luke immediately invested the time in finding them and subtly disabling them with the Force. It was yet another ongoing battle of wills with the Emperor which neither ever mentioned but both upheld.

Now he remained silent, listening to the familiar rasp of the breathing mechanism in his father's suit, leaning subtly back against the upright chair behind him for support, his body still fatigued from Palpatine's unexpected choice of chastisement. In truth, he'd gotten off _very_ lightly; his Master had flown into vindictive, violent rages over far less.

Which prompted the question- why? Why had Luke been allowed that defiance? Palpatine had even used the term _indulgent _- not generally a word he associated with his Jedi…

And what was '_about to transpire'_?

.

"Luke?"

He turned, suddenly realising that Vader was speaking his name. "Yes?"

"Did you hear my question?"

"No. I wasn't listening." Luke said curtly, wishing to clarify that he had no interest in his fathers' claims; no curiosity in digging up old vendetta's one more time.

"Why did you not seek me out?" Vader asked, his tone indicating that he was condensing several previous questions into one.

Luke turned away again to look out into the distant city lights, considering…. not what to answer, but whether to answer at all. Should he simply turn around and leave the room?

After another long pause punctuated only by Vader's grating breaths, Luke sighed, annoyed as much at himself for allowing this conversation to continue as his father for initiating it. "I've told you- Ben said that my father had died, killed by Darth Vader."

The resentment bit out in Vader's bass tones; roiled through the Force like a wavefront. "Kenobi was a bitter, weak old man who filled your head with lies."

But though Luke was willing to answer his father, he was certainly not prepared to humour him. "Kenobi was right; my father died twenty-five years ago, when Darth Vader came into being. Everything he was, was destroyed by that creature- and him just the empty husk of pointless ambitions."

It was a pointed accusation, intended to bring this discussion to a close, but his father remained silent, prompting Luke to push further, his exhaustion giving him a brittle edge. He met his father's eyes, as if looking at an object of curiosity, his voice distant and uninvolved, "Was it worth it, all your ambition? Was it worth all the suffering you caused? How do you sleep now… or do you sleep at all? Can a machine sleep - or feel guilt?"

"I am trapped in this suit because of your precious Jedi teacher!"

Luke shook his head mildly, unoffended. "I don't defend him- I have no more loyalty to him any more than I have to you."

It was a subtle barb, casually delivered but with awareness of its power, Vader knew. The boy had long since learned to play the discreet games of the Palace which the Emperor had instigated- he had after all learned them from the true master. Intrigue, contrivance and artifice, true intentions hidden- or politely, patently clear.

Luke turned pointedly away to look out to the distant city, that reality growing ever more distant now- a fading dream, like so much of his old life. "But you're right, he was weak. He failed in his duty on Mustafar. He failed whatever beliefs and tenets he had held to in that moment. He failed the Jedi, he failed the galaxy- and he failed Anakin Skywalker."

Vader thought of all the misery and anguish Kenobi had rained down on his old student since that day- a revenge far worse than mere death. "I would have killed him, given the chance."

His son turned, that dispassionate expression a sting in itself, though it was nothing compared to his words; "But you did have the chance- you were there. You lost."

That brought Vader's head up, the acerbic harshness of it surprising even him. "You could not possibly understand - you were not there."

"No, which is a pity." His son turned away again to stare at the lights of the city, "Because I would have killed you."

He did not turn back, the conversation clearly over as far as he was concerned. Vader remained for a time, staring at his son, wondering whether the boy would eventually feel obligated to acknowledge his father. But he didn't, and finally Vader turned to leave, seething, wondering why he had pressed; why he continued to ask these questions, searching for some connection, some spark, when the boy pushed him away time and again.

He had no answer- except that he knew he could not do otherwise.

.

.

.

Luke was lost in sleep when the sharp susurration whispered through the Force in his dreams, making him frown… then everything tilted, reality itself realigning, Luke gasping out, jerking upright, hands out to steady himself against the ethereal motion, his surprise lighting the dark room with a flash of Force-driven brightness, every surface, every wall, every structure within highlighted…  
Then darkness as his awareness settled, no specific threat apparent.

Seconds later, he sensed Reece walking purposely through the withdrawing room adjacent to his bedroom and twisted about. "Yes." He allowed in permission, though the Aide had not yet knocked on the door. "Something's happened." Luke prompted as the thick doors swung open, Reece bowing before entering.

"Forgive the intrusion Sir, but I thought you'd want to see this." Reece set quickly forward, tone somewhere between excitement and portent, the backlit screen of the automemo he was holding illuminating a small circle about him in the thick gloom of the cavernous, sparsely-furnished room.

Luke took the automemo, read it, re-read it then glanced up, "This is verified?"

"Yes, Sir - it's already been announced across the HoloNet."

"Hm." Luke said simply, the tone of his short exclamation revealing that it explained a great deal- though probably only Reece could have read so much into so little, knowing him as well as he did. Luke handed the automemo back to the Aide. "This changes nothing, nothing at all- you know that?"

"I think perhaps in the eyes of others… it may make certain alliances easier."

"Too easy. Allegiance and ambition are not the same thing." Luke shook his head, too tired to consider the implications right now. "We'll talk in the morning."

Reece bowed then, realising new protocol, he backstepped and bowed again before turning to walk from the room.

"And don't ever do that again when we're in private quarters." came Luke's voice from the darkness.

Reece smiled, amused, pleased that The Commander hadn't ordered him never to do it at all, which considering the news would have been a breach of protocol, but had chosen to dismiss the pointless etiquette in private- which was very much his modus operandi. And one of the many reasons why Reece had defected.

"Of course, Sir." He acknowledged, leaving. Busy night ahead, once this got out….

.

.

.

Leia was woken in the early hours of the morning by the comm, Han turning over and pulling the pillow over his head with a groan. Flicking the low light on, squinting from its glow, she fumbled across the nightstand.

"Leia." she acknowledged, not in the mood for talking.

"Leia, you need to see this." It was Mon's voice, tense with concern and trepidation, dragging Leia's eyes open with the same.

"Where are you?"

"In Ops." Mon said tightly, her voice obscured by a buzz of others close by.

Feeling her stomach tighten, Leia sat up. "C'mon flyboy." She prompted Han.

"What is it?" he drawled, still clinging hopefully to the pillow.

Leia shook her head, already dressing, "I don't know- but it's big."

.

Fifteen minutes later, she was in Ops, staring at the message on the HoloNet channels with the same mixture of disbelief and unease as everyone else.

"Well that's it then." Leia said firmly, looking to Mon, a sense of empty finality flooding the small pocket of hope she'd secretly nursed for so long. "No arguing with that. When did it come in?"

"When I commed you." Mon replied, looking as dishevelled and sleep-weary as Leia felt, "We got a message a few hours ago from the Bothans, but nothing was verified."

"Well, it seems pretty authentic now." Leia said.

Mon nodded, looking back to the screen, "Heir Apparent."

The message was lengthy and authoritative, sent over all official channels on the HoloNet, the language decorous and legally relevant, painstakingly refined- but it ultimately boiled down to one thing.

Palpatine had named a successor - Luke Skywalker was now Heir to the Empire.

"I'm not surprised- it was always heading that way." Madine said uneasily.

"It seems so unlike him though," Mon reflected out loud, reading the proclamation for the fifth time, "Palpatine's never shown any willingness to share power."

"This isn't sharing; he's really offering nothing more than everyone already knew." Ackbar said, gravelly voice low, lost in consideration, "This has simply made it official."

"And bought him a few year's grace." Leia added. Mon turned to her, and she shrugged, "All the analysts say The Commander's formed a strong following within the military. They all say he'll take power within a decade- maybe Palpatine is officially confirming his position to head that off - why risk a coup when you can get everything you want just by waiting. It's all guaranteed now."

"We need to take this to the War Room." Mon said firmly. "We need a course of action- a response."

.

"In your opinion?" Mon was trying to lock Tag Massa, the Intelligence Chief, down. They sat around a large circular table in the War Room, the plain walls and low light giving weight to the discussion, everyone staring to their automemo's to check again this amazing and totally unanticipated turn of events.

"This is a very unexpected move, Ambassador." Massa evaded, never one to be tied to a statement prematurely, "However I doubt that it's a stabilising move on the Emperor's part - it's simply not necessary."

"What about all the reports of The Commander forming a retinue in Court?" Leia prompted.

"It's true that The Wolf has formed a very strong power base in the last year, particularly in the military, but he's never exhibited any serious intention or desire to overthrow the Emperor." Tag said, her casual mention of The Commander's alias, often quoted in Imperial circles, setting Leia ill at ease and prompting her to wonder once again what his real name was. He'd never been referred to by the names of either Luke or Skywalker by anyone in the Empire- only when he'd been here, spying for his Master. Even the Bothans could find no definite links to that name, save for unsubstantiated verbal accounts relating to an Old Republic Jedi by the name of Skywalker. But as much as she tried not to, Leia still couldn't ever think of him by any other name.

Massa continued over Leia's thoughts, "Certainly nothing above the normal level of powerplay that one would expect in such circles. And on the few occasions that we have noted any real conflict forming, we've also noted that The Commander will disappear for days or even weeks. Whether he's banished from Court or chooses not to attend in order to diffuse the situation is unclear. What information we have is in his case-file… screens ninety through one-five-eight." She added, flicking quickly through them on her battered, well-used automemo.

"And he goes where?" Ackbar prompted with a flick of his elongated, webbed fingers.

"That, we have no idea, sir." she admitted, rubbing her eyebrows- she too had been up all night over this one, and didn't expect to get to sleep anytime soon. "But when he returns to Court, he appears more elusive and insular than ever- often for an extended period. That's in his psychological profile- screens…"

"And the conflict's always dispersed?" Mothma half-stated, half-asked, prompting Tag to look up without finishing, nodding just slightly in reply.

"Certainly it seems a deal less contentious, yes."

"But he is loyal to the Emperor?" Leia asked, feeling something important was being left unsaid.

"His psyche profile lists him as such." Tag said.

Which didn't answer the question, Leia knew. "And in your opinion?" she pushed.

"Opinions are biased, Ma'am." Tag said flatly.

"Please…" Leia soothed, inviting Tag Massa on. She was a balanced, thoughtful woman, young for her post at two years Leia's senior, having taken it on the death of her predecessor Odin Latt, who had been lost in an Imperial raid just eight months ago.  
He'd been grooming the sharp-witted Massa for almost a year previously, but many had worried that her experience wasn't yet up to the task. For herself, Leia found the woman's inexperience an asset- she tended to veer away from many practices common in the Intel community, and this ability to 'think outside the box' made it difficult for her Imperial opposites to predict or lead her. Possessed of a quick, enquiring mind, she seemed unlikely to be intimidated by either mass opinions or flights of fancy and as such, Leia respected and trusted her judgement enormously.

Tag glanced down as if considering, then looked Leia in the eye, "In my _personal_ opinion," she emphasised, "I question whether The Wolf has any explicit loyalties within the Empire. He accords every respect to Palpatine but he appears to make no friendships outside of the professional, maintaining a discreet distance from Court and the Emperor's entourage as much as possible… He remains, to all intents and purposes, outside of the society with which he is theoretically allied. Most of his own small entourage and known associates are military or ex-military, and he seems to spend time away from Court whenever possible, travelling with the Fleet in the Core and Colony Systems. Which is - in my _personal_ opinion -"  
She again paused to emphasis this, "The reason for his accession to Heir. I believe he will find it very difficult to _remain_ outside of Imperial Court or political life now. Beings from across the board will attempt to connect themselves to him - it will be seen as a good long-term political investment, particularly as it now comes with the Emperor's seal of approval. Court will, effectively, be built up around him, whether he wishes it or not. Palpatine will still remain the Emperor, unassailable - but The Wolf will be inescapably dragged from a predominantly military position into a hierarchy he has thus far deliberately avoided."

The table remained very quiet for long seconds, in which Tag looked nervously down to her automemo. "In…my opinion." she finally added.

Leia blinked, taking all that in. Tag Massa had certainly given the issue some thought - but then, that was her job. "And Lord Vader?" she asked, moving the conversation on.

"Lord Vader would never have been given the Empire, Ma'am, not with The Wolf in the sidelines. Palpatine would always have held back power for him- it's clearly what he's been prepared for."

"Why?" Madine prompted, never one to mince words.

Tag considered before answering, "As far as we're aware, no-one outside of Palpatine's most trusted allies were aware of The Wolf's existence until he was presented to Court aged twenty-one, and awarded command of the Core Systems the following year, a reasonable age, considering his future position and his responsibilities. Despite his reluctance, he remains attached to Court and has a position of power second to none- the Emperor always keeps him close at hand…"

"I thought that was because he's considered unpredictable?" Madine said.

"If the Emperor considered him so very unpredictable, I would question why he was given control of the most affluent, influential planets in the Empire with the Core Fleet." Tag countered evenly, back on familiar ground now. "All our profiles indicate that he's in a highly favoured position with the Emperor and he always has been. Taking all of this into account, the unsubstantiated reports that he's Palpatine's son rather than those that he's Vader's may well be correct."

"I don't believe that. It just doesn't ring true." Leia maintained, searching in vain for facts to back up her gut feeling on this. "If he were Palpatine's son, why not declare him earlier? Why wait until he was twenty-one before presenting him to the Palace?"

"He would be better able to defend himself effectively by then." Admiral Ackbar said. "From both external and internal threats." he added pointedly.

Leia frowned, unconvinced. "If that was Palpatine's concern, then why send him out on missions as dangerous as infiltrating the Alliance?"

"Perhaps Sk…" Ackbar almost said it, Leia knew; almost committed what had become the unforgivable mistake of referring to Luke by the name he'd used whilst spying on the Rebel Alliance. But he recovered admirably, continuing without further pause, "Perhaps he felt the need to test himself, to gain some practical experience - it would certainly increase his standing within the military. Or perhaps Palpatine felt the same?"

"It's too much of a gamble. Would you risk your son and heir by sending him to infiltrate the Alliance - it's like throwing a lamb to the wolves…" Even as she said it, Leia knew her error, given the nickname which had rifled through the Empire's military circles since Luke's promotion to Fleet Commander. Surprisingly it was Mon Mothma who called her on it.

"Considering his success, it seems that it was rather more like throwing a wolf in among the lambs. Perhaps Palpatine knew it would be the same."

There was a long silence at this, everyone stewing on the past; Skywalker's alias was first heard from the Bothan spy network immediately following his return to the Empire after infiltrating the Alliance, his codename whilst working as a spy first made reference to by Black Sun. But that was all they had - that was all anybody had on him; a few disjointed accounts and untraceable details. Everyone remained silent in consideration of the conundrum he still represented.

"I would argue that given his new position it's immaterial whose son he is." Mon Mothma said at last, bringing everyone's minds back to the present. "It's what he will be that concerns us."

It was Crix Madine who voiced what everyone had thought but no-one would be the first to utter. "It would seem reasonable for us to break the chain - to stamp out this line of succession before it's established."

No-one reacted, no-one made eye contact. It fell to Leia to speak it out loud; "Are you talking about assassination?"

"I would say yes." Madine said, meeting her gaze. "It would be difficult, but not impossible, given that he travels around the Core Systems regularly, unlike the Emperor."

Leia squirmed in her seat, deeply uncomfortable with this, "No-one would ever get close enough."

Had she said that? Was she inviting discussion? She felt her cheeks heat- what would her father have said? He had believed that there would eventually be a diplomatic solution- believed it with all his heart. What would he have said now?

"There are other ways." Madine said, all business now. As an ex-Imperial, Leia always felt he believed he had something to prove- and he was never afraid of getting his hands dirty. He retained that particular confidence that all Imperial Officers enjoyed; the absolute conviction that he was right- that whatever means he saw fit was an acceptable action, no matter how… blunt. "There are numerous methods which require no direct contact and therefore would be difficult for even a Sith to trace. Methods on a grander scale."

Leia frowned, uncertain she wanted to hear this. "Like what?"

Madine shrugged elaborately, looking to Mon Mothma for support. "A bomb perhaps?"

Leia didn't fail to notice the meaningful glance that passed between Mon Mothma and General Madine, though Mon turned her eyes down in warning. As Leia turned to Madine, she caught Tag's eye and recognised the same look on the Intel Chief's face; this was something going on between Mon and Madine then; something even Tag Massa didn't know.

Mon Mothma considered, finally speaking out loud. "We'd have to consult existing records, find out exactly what he's capable of. I'm sure it would require more complex consideration to ensure a favourable result."

Leia was dragged from her reverie by Mon's casual air, hard intent disguised by oblique references. Why didn't she just come out and say it- _to guarantee we could murder him_.

"Is this what we've come to? Is this what we are now?" The tone of her words brought everyone's eyes to her. "What has he really done against us?" Leia couldn't believe she'd said that - almost word for word Han's argument. She'd dismissed it so easily then but now, faced with this- it wasn't even that she _liked_ Luke Skywalker or whatever the hell his real name was, it was just that… it _felt_ wrong. In every fibre of her body, it _felt_ _wrong_.

"I assume you're talking beside standing second-in-command to the Emperor, maintaining and stabilising his dictatorship, murdering individuals without trial, infiltrating and informing on the Alliance, overriding inalienable sentient rights and practicing Sith doctrines?" Mon challenged smoothly.

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"I think we're beyond superficial sophistries now, Leia." Mon chided, "Sometimes one must look at the greater picture. Can we really afford to let a Sith dynasty take hold?"

Leia shook her head, not certain why she was fighting this corner, but very sure that she was doing so alone, "I'll say again; what has he ever done to indicate that he disapproves of the Alliance- that he would be a threat to us if he came to power? He may well be the one to end this civil war."

"One way or another." Madine said grimly.

Leia turned to Tag Massa for support, "You said yourself; he has no loyalty to the Empire."

"He's already illustrated the extent of his loyalty to the Alliance." Mon argued, shooting that argument down.

"If we're going to make an assassination attempt, should it not be for the Emperor?"

Mon shook her head, "The Emperor is far harder to reach. Even if that were possible, the logical path would be to remove his successor first, otherwise all we do is aid The Wolf's ascension to power, create a dynasty by putting another Sith on the throne, an unknown, unpredictable quantity. General Madine is right- better to stop this line of succession now."

Leia rubbed her forehead, tired and irritable, "I can't condone this action. I won't."

"May I ask, Leia-" Mon said, voice like steel wrapped in silk, "Are you speaking as a leader in the Alliance - or as his friend?"

That was a low blow. Leia drew herself up in her chair, fixing Mon with her most unassailable stare. Mon had been a master in the Senate chamber, but Leia had served too, young as she was - and she'd learned a thing or two. "That was uncalled for. Yes, I was deceived, as we all were- but my loyalties remain the same. They are to the Alliance and to democracy. And I won't have that brought under question to serve ulterior motives."

Mon held her stern stare for long seconds, everyone else at the table suddenly finding some pressing reason to look elsewhere as the two strongest wills in the Alliance hierarchy met head on…

"Perhaps," Ackbar offered at last, always the voice of reason, "We should reconvene at a more convenient hour. We're all tired and this isn't the time to make far-reaching decisions- it requires a more considered approach before we move forward."

Both women slowly settled back into their chairs, but Leia couldn't quite let it go yet. "I'm not happy about playing devil's advocate in this, but I won't see us make a decision which would shape the view the rest of the galaxy holds of us and the course of all our future dealings without considering all possible ramifications."

"Are you suggesting that we would?" Mon asked, unyielding.

"I'm suggesting that our principles seem a little compromised here. You accuse me of having a biased opinion of The Commander. I would accuse you of the same. He hurt us and he undermined our image… and you want retribution."

"It was not me who brought the question as to how to deal with this subject to light, Leia." Mon challenged levelly.

O_h, that was good, Mon_, Leia had to allow as General Madine stepped in, Mon having neatly brought him into the argument, deflecting Leia's last comment towards him.

"May I remind you, Princess, that we are at war." The General said sternly, "And our enemy's strategy has suddenly become very clear. It is my duty to do everything within my power to shorten this war and ensure a positive outcome. Or do I misinterpret the parameters of my duties?"

Leia turned to him, forced to defend on two fronts now. "No, General. But there are conventions, even in war. It would be rather difficult to maintain the moral high-ground when we're holding assassin's knives."

"In case you failed to notice, your Highness, The Wolf's primary Aide is an Imperial assassin." Madine countered, voice full of scorn.

As good-a soldier as he was, Madine was no diplomat, and Leia again blessed her father for drilling those skills into her before she had the slightest sense of their value. "And you disapprove of that, General?"

Madine paused, seeing that he had been cornered, glancing momentarily to Mon Mothma.

Admiral Ackbar took the initiative in the ensuing silence, "I think that perhaps we should break for now, to give Intel some time to put forward a more rounded view of this situation. We'll reconvene in the morning- details will be sent to your offices. Thank-you."

There was a pointed finality to it which no longer invited debate, everyone looking to disperse before the situation deteriorated, even Leia. It wasn't what she was there for- it had just somehow happened. But she hadn't failed to notice that Mon, ever the consummate diplomat, had managed to get someone else to fight her corner rather than dirty her own hands. Leia sighed, rising to walk from the War Room, her automemo clutched to her chest, Han catching her eye as she passed into the ante-room.

"Hey. You got that _'someone just stepped on my toes and I'm about to jump up and down on his'_ look in your eye." He murmured easily, falling into step beside her, hair still mussed from sleep.

"Not at all." she said tersely, eyes on Madine as he walked from the room ahead of her, deep in discussion with Mon.

"O-kay." He said, clearly unconvinced. After several silent steps, he tried again, "So what's going on?"

Leia's mind was still reeling, trying to find a path through too much information. But she turned to Han, knowing this would be a blow for him, "Luke's been named by Palpatine as Heir Apparent to the Empire."

Han's feet stuttered to a halt as he stared at Leia, who felt for some reason strangely guilty- as if it was she and not Luke who had let Han down.

"That's…not…" it was all he could manage, his face bewildered and wounded, Leia regretting now having told him so directly.

"I'm sorry, Han." she said, but he was looking away now, eyes to the assembled Chiefs as they walked away, heads down.

"So what were you talkin' about in the War Room?" he asked, voice low with suspicion.

"They're…_we_'re," Leia corrected herself, "trying to decide a course of action."

Han's eyes narrowed, "Like what?"

Tag Massa passed through Leia's field of vision behind Han, and Leia briefly rested her hand on Han's arm in reassurance, "Wait here."

Leia hurried her step to catch up with Massa, Han holding back, knowing her well enough to know that she was up to something.

"That's quite an interesting opinion you hold, Chief." Leia said as she drew level with the Intelligence Chief.

Tag turned those sharp eyes on Leia, "If not a particularly popular one."

Leia shrugged, "I'd rather be fair than popular…fortunately." she added wryly

Tag smiled just slightly at that. "I stand by it." She added, though she glanced down, Leia feeling that she was uneasy at saying so aloud.

"May I ask you a question?" Leia said breezily, the memory of Tag's studied expression at the meaningful look between Mon and Madine still foremost in her mind.

Tag smiled, "On or off the record?"

Leia too smiled at that; never try to get smart with an Intel Officer. "Off. But then you knew that."

"Go on?" Tag invited.

"If you were outside of this situation - an impartial observer - given the characters and the present leadership here… what do you think the outcome of this debate will be?"

Massa glanced down, walking on for a short time in silence, Leia not pushing her as she turned that pin-sharp mind to the question, running through all possible scenarios.  
"Given the disposition and the objectives and the history involved, particularly in General Madine's case… I think they'll go for an assassination attempt. I think the General will push for it because he has his own agenda and logic and I think Chief Mothma will back him for two reasons; firstly because this has seriously rattled her- she generally has a pretty good handle on the Emperor but in this instance she didn't see it coming and has no idea what Palpatine's doing though this is a major, major event. And secondly because she and Madine work well together; she trusts him and Madine seems so sure of the necessary actions and response. He'll pressure her into a decision because he's ex-Imperial military and they're used to having their own way and because there's no more fervent-an anti-smoker than someone who's just quit. Madine still feels he has something to prove here- he still wants to hurt the Empire and he's still smarting that The Wolf just walked in here and took everyone in, himself included. Admiral Ackbar will try to be the voice of reason, but Mon Mothma will sway his opinion because he's Mon Cal and they respect authority, and because he and Chief Mothma have a long history. And finally there's yourself; but your opinion in this matter is considered - forgive me - somewhat biased; you had a close relationship with The Wolf when he was here and you now have a very close relationship with…" she paused, looking significantly at Han, no more needing to be said. "So yes, I think they'll go ahead. Despite your continued objections."

She glanced apologetically to Leia, forced amusement in her face, "But that's just a personal opinion, you understand. I haven't run it through any programs."

Leia smiled again without looking up, "And in your _personal_ opinion…is that right?"

The smile fell away from Massa's face and she let out a long breath, "No. I don't think we should be lowering ourselves to the Empire's level. We don't assassinate people on a whim; we put them to trial by jury. If we can't maintain that basic tenet then I think we should seriously re-evaluate our ties because we don't deserve to associate ourselves with the values of the Old Republic. And I also think your assessment was valid- The Wolf has never made an unprovoked move against us. That may seem like splitting hairs to some, but given the subtle plays which define the circles in which he moves, any gesture, however small, would have been carefully considered by himself and therefore should be be taken into account by us."

Leia glanced down, blessing Han for giving her this opportunity - and an unexpected ally. Massa was one of the very few beside those directly involved who knew the full story of Luke Skywalker; it was considered necessary to her position.

"I would add one thing, Ma'am," Massa offered, stopping in the corridor to face Leia, "I've watched him a long time and read every psyche profile and incident report, and I think I know him well enough to tell you this much- if they do decide to make an assassination attempt, then I will do my level best to make sure it's flawlessly executed and hope with all my heart that it will be successful... because Force help us all if it's not."

.

.

.

Luke sat in the huge, coffered-ceiling dining room in his private quarters eating breakfast, the tall balcony doors flung open to the morning, dispelling a little of the stuffy gloom that always encapsulated the dark-paneled room.

"So what _is_ my title?" he asked doubtfully of Wez Reece, who was sat at the table with him, the medic Hallin beside him. Between them Reece knew they constituted the total number of people Luke believed he could trust on Coruscant.

Neither men ate, of course, but it was amazing how comfortable Skywalker had become with the fact that there always seemed to be an inordinate amount of people who found it necessary to be close to him at any given hour of the day.  
Right now there were, beside Hallin and Reece, two footmen on the other side of the door, waiting to clear the table - there was a standing order that no servants were allowed to attend in the actual room - being dutifully watched by two plainclothes members of the Palace Guard always referred to as 'escort', who trailed the Commander around the Palace, other than when he was with the Emperor. Two Royal Guard were always on sentry duty outside the apartments, with a further four on duty in the Guard House, a small suite just inside the door, this opposite the larger suite of Staff Rooms, in which two Court Ministers, two adjutants, three advisors - whom Skywalker had never once consulted - a chamberlain, a chief steward, three stewards and two equerries.  
Three stories down but connected internally to his apartments were various attendants, harbingers, cooks, house staff, and a wardrobe master. Aside from servants, most of his in-house staff were military or ex-military, as were all members of his retinue. Though few made it this close of course; his entourage had remained pointedly small, restricted to the half-dozen or so people whom he genuinely trusted, another half-dozen allowed to remain not-quite-as-close in order to belay the Emperor's suspicions.

An awful lot of people, requiring an awful lot of managing to keep them always subtly removed from the Commander - now the heir - a fact that Reece, whose job this was, assumed would continue to cause him headaches in the near future. Though he had a feeling that his next major hurdle was looming right now-

"Highness." Reece said simply, identifying the Commander's new title and waiting for the anticipated reaction.

It was now three days since the official announcement had been made and though he hadn't said as much, the Commander was clearly trying his best to keep a low profile which was difficult within the Palace at the best of times, a steady stream of Courtiers, politicians and military climbers contacting his secretaries and requesting permission for an audience to congratulate the new heir, none of which had been granted as yet. Many others who knew his reclusive ways opted to leave messages or gifts, believing this the more politic choice.

Neither would work of course, since the Commander hadn't wanted the title in the first place and placed little store by it anyway - this was in fact the first time he had even asked his title, prompted by Reece's insistence that certain matters of State needed to be dealt with, a string of gradually more insistent communique's arriving from the Ministry of Court Protocols.

So all in all Reece had been braced for a less-than-enthusiastic reaction.

Luke practically balked, "Really? Couldn't it be something a little less… pretentious?"

Reece raised his eyebrows, his tone both formal and familiar, something he had spent the last three years developing. Ten years Luke's senior, he had been recruited to his present post by Saté Pestage, and regarded a large part of his job as grooming the younger Commander - now officially heir - for his future position.

"It's not a multiple choice, Sir. That is your correct title now. The Emperor should of course be Majesty, but since that's also the title of any ruler to any Royal House, it was felt that a distinction should be made and Excellency is also an acknowledgement of his previous position as High Chancellor. His Imperial Majesty is however, also correct, which makes your title as Highness correct Form, as it would be for any heir to a throne."

Luke frowned, pushing back his plate, his provincial accent coming defensively to the fore as Reece had known it would. At the Emperor's command, after almost a year of avoidances, the Commander had finally relented and an etiquette tutor had invested a great deal of time in eradicating his Rim accent, but one could only ever overwrite such an old habit, Reece knew, never remove it entirely. It now faded in and out as Luke saw fit, depending on his audience, mood or provocation at any given time.

"Highness is just a little… you know…" Memories of Han regularly referring to Leia as 'Your Highnessness' drifted unbidden through Luke's thoughts.

Reece stifled a sigh, considering. "You could perhaps petition to be referred to on official documentation as 'The Heir'. The request could reasonably be made on the grounds that, like the Emperor, some distinction should be made between yourself and any Crown Prince to a planetary house. The title could also be used when referring to you in the third-party, which is general etiquette for someone of your stature anyway. Recognized 'Form' is for someone speaking directly to you to acknowledge you for the first time each meeting as Your Highness and subsequently as Sir."

Luke glanced at Hallin, who shrugged elaborately into his friend's distaste, "Who'd have thought a name could be this complicated?"

"Can't they just call me sir like they do now?"

"No, Sir." Reece said flatly.

"You just did."

"That's because I have already addressed you several times in this meeting, so I may now properly address you as Sir." Reece clarified in his most stately manner, always the experienced voice of decorum and Form, his many years in the Palace gaining him an extensive knowledge of such matters; surprisingly so considering he had an ex-military background, having originally come here as a Royal Guard.

Luke leaned back, uneasy; Reece's formal manner always got his back up; it was like talking to Threepio on a bad day.

"This is nothing." Hallin dismissed, "Wait until you get to who may and may not properly address you directly and how close they may stand _and_ how they enter and leave your presence…" he paused momentarily as Luke turned to him, appalled, then shrugged apologetically; "They gave us all lessons the day before yesterday."

Exasperated, Luke twisted up and out of the chair, turning on the other two men as they both made to rise, finger pointing in warning, "Do _not_ stand up!"

Both men froze uncomfortably as he turned and left, heading for the privacy of his withdrawing room. The silence stretched out for long minutes before Hallin asked casually, "Happy now?"

Reece settled back down, eyes on the large autoreader he had brought in with him. "I haven't even mentioned the flag yet."

"Flag?"

"He has to pick a flag…. for when he's in residency."

Hallin rose, quietly sliding the heavy carved chair back against the table with exaggerated care.

"Where are you going?" Reece asked of the medic.

"I think I'll be giving The Heir a wide berth for a few hours," Hallin observed matter-of-factly, "But good luck with that flag thing."

.

It was Mara who came to Reece's aid when she passed on yet another message from the Master of Ceremonies and Palace Protocols - apparently his fifth today - politely requesting clarification on the new Heir's decision, Reece having to admit that he had not found 'the right moment' to broach the subject of the flag yet. Mara had raised finely-arched eyebrows and turned about, retrieving the designs from the staff offices. Not even close to shoulder-height with Reece's hefty bulk, her trim, almost delicate and misleadingly non-threatening form often bought her immunity in many situations where Reece would hesitate to tread.

Knocking on the door to the drawing room she entered without hesitation, the large Autoreader under her arm, images already called up. She was her usual direct self; "You need to choose a flag."

Luke didn't even glance up from the table where he was working, automemo and stylus in hand, doors once again flung open to the morning, "Aren't you supposed to call me Highnessness or something?"

"You need to choose a flag, _Highness_." Mara stated without hesitation.

It had come as less of a shock to her when she'd heard a few hours before the official release that Palpatine was about to name Luke as Heir; he'd always privately made it clear to Mara that this was his ultimate aim, from the very first time she had seen him when he'd arrived unconscious, battered and bruised from Bespin. It hadn't exactly been a seamless transformation from Rebel pilot to Sith advocate and judging from Luke's less than gracious reaction to the news, more was undoubtedly still to come, but essentially the change was made and set in stone; even she could see that.

"Where's Hallin?" Luke countered as she stepped forward, throwing Mara momentarily.

"What?"

"Hallin- where's Hallin?" he repeated expectantly in that particular tone that everyone, even Mara, couldn't help but react to.

"I don't know - do you need him?"

"Yes- find him."

Mara turned about and was three steps to the door before she faltered; oh, he had the whole confident authority thing down to a tee now, she reflected irreverently. The amount of time he'd spent at the Palace and in Court, no matter how unwillingly, had forced him to learn to use every tool in his box to prevail, and his position and people's perception of such, was just one more.  
Did he realize that these too were lessons Palpatine had forced upon his advocate? If he did, it didn't stop him utilizing them, but then Skywalker was nothing if not pragmatic.

"I'll organize that." Mara said aloud, turning about to set back towards him, "In the meantime, you need to look at this."

Skywalker raised his eyebrows, glancing from her to Reece, who had entered with her, clearly seeing that he was under a two-prong attack here. "Reece, find Hallin please; Commander Jade seems incapable."

Reece automatically backstepped and left the room with a sharp bow, leaving Luke and Mara to square off, Mara realizing she had just lost half her team.

Still, she kept walking, placing the automemo on the table before him, "Flags; would it kill you to choose one?"

Luke sighed, sliding the automemo away, "No, not really- I'll choose one later."

"Chose one now and then it's done."

He glowered, squinting up in the morning sun, "What - have you got someone sat at a table with needle and thread, waiting?"

Mara sat opposite him, unfazed, "If I said yes, would you pick one?"

"Aren't you supposed to wait until you're invited to sit now?"

"Who told you that?"

"Reece, and he's seldom wrong about pointless etiquette." Luke countered, pulling his own automemo back to him, which Mara had subtly slid aside when she'd put hers down before him.

"See, some of it does sink in." Mara countered, of Reece's constant lessons, turning as he re-entered the room.

"Hallin is on his way, Highness."

Luke glanced up, unamused at the title, however 'correct form' it was. "I think I'm gonna ban that right now- in fact I am. No-one uses it again."

Reece turned a long-suffering look to Mara, who shrugged; she didn't like it anyway, it didn't suit him- it was a pretentious title and he was many things but that wasn't one of them. "Well now that's sorted, could we move on to choosing a flag?"

Luke sighed, placing his automemo down with exaggerated frustration, "Why?"

"Because one needs to be flown on the pole in front of the main Monolith whenever you're in residence- which is now."

"Seriously?"

"Yes." Mara held his eye, refusing to buckle.

"That is the most pointless thing I've ever heard."

"Welcome to the Palace." Mara countered, unmoved.

He sighed, turning the automemo Mara had carried in with her around to face him, "Fine. I'll have that one."

"You can't just pick the first one you see."

"I like it- it'll do fine." Luke countered unconvincingly, glancing back to the image, "It has colors, it has… what the hell _is_ that?"

"It's a…." Mara leaned in, looking at the design and reading the short explanation that came with it, " 'Modified Navy Jack of the Core Fleet- to make reference to The Heir's military standing', it says."

Luke squinted, "It doesn't look anything like the Fleet Jack."

"It's _modified_." Mara repeated pointedly, reaching out to press the 'image replace', "The point is that there are thirty or so designs- you're supposed to choose one which you feel best exemplifies you."

"Do they have one with a womp-rat on?" Luke grumbled.

"It's not a literal translation." Mara countered, unable to resist.

There was a quiet knock at the door and Hallin entered, performing his usual flawless bow before glancing over to Luke, "Am I supposed to call you Highn…"

"No, Highness is banned." Luke said sharply without looking up, "And so apparently is waiting to be allowed to sit, so you may as well do that too."

Hallin paused a second before setting forward, his manner changing abruptly, voice open but droll, "Ah, let normality reign- or as near as we get around here."

Luke smiled and glanced up at that, and Mara shot a surreptitious sideways look at Hallin, aware of what he was doing. She'd never really thought about it before, but the medic had always seemed to be somewhere near Skywalker, whether he was in the Palace, with the Fleet or planetside with Imperial Forces. She'd always just considered him a medic in attendance rather than part of Luke's entourage; someone on the fringes of the elite rather than closely involved, though Luke tended to be guarded even in this.

Still, much as she dismissed him, it was Hallim's casual, flippant air which had effortlessly dispelled Skywalker's difficult mood now, and if she'd had any doubts as to his position here, then Skywalker's next words shattered them.

"Hallin will do it." Luke said, gesturing him forward.

"What?" the medic had just made to sit and froze mid-action, aware of all eyes turning to him.

"Come and choose a flag." Luke said, ignoring Mara as she spun back to him, green eyes narrowing as her jaw flexed.

"For what?" Hallin asked, stepping forward uneasily, though he knew full well; had been trying his best to avoid it.

"Me." Luke said, turning the automemo about.

Hallin glanced uncomfortably at Mara as he walked around the far side of the table then stretched out to press the image-change, leafing through the designs. Mara resisted the urge to snatch it back, frustrated that Skywalker wasn't taking this seriously.

"Really- a flag?" Hallin asked, echoing The Heir's own indifference.

"Absolutely." Luke assured, coming round to the idea now, "Choose with care- one day soon you may be flying it at half-mast."

"Why," Hallin asked, tone glibly dismissive, "What have you done now?"

"Nothing yet," Luke grinned, teasing eyes turning to Mara, aware that she was fuming, "That Mara knows of anyway."

Hallin leaned in to rearrange three images on the screen, "This one is good, with the stylized lightsaber hilt against the two…. are they moons or suns?… and that one with the… what _is_ that?" he prompted, finger on a wreath on one of the flags.

Mara pursed her lips, so Luke prompted her expectantly, "Mara?"

She ground her jaw, but answered without looking to the medic, "It's lorric willow- a sign of royalty. They used to crown their rulers with it in the Teta System because they thought it encompassed the best attributes of a leader- it's strong but flexible and never breaks."

"I'm not _from_ the Teta System." Luke parried without hesitation.

"Hey,_ I_ didn't design it." she grumbled. When she glanced up at him though, his expression was laced with wicked amusement rather than genuine confrontation, and she huffed, annoyed that he could bait her so easily, frustrated by his lack of interest in or excitement about his incredible new position and title. She held his eye and he grinned momentarily, then glanced down, finally giving a moment's considered thought.

"I like the first one- the twin suns…" Again he paused, seemed to reflect; "But with two sabers, crossed, not one."

Dark eyebrows scowled beneath her flash of gold-streaked auburn hair, "Why two?"

"I like the symmetry." Luke replied vaguely, adding, "And why don't we have Palpatine's precious wreath of lorric willow behind them, just to keep him happy."

Mara frowned; Palpatine had of course dictated the designs that Luke would be given a choice of, though he'd been sure that Luke would choose the twin sun design, given his heritage. But Luke was right; the lorric willow _had_ been his Master's concept.

"How did you know?" it was all she could ask.

"You said lorric was flexible," Luke said, rising dismissively as if tiring of the game now, "That which is flexible is also compliant."

Was that what the Emperor was inferring when he'd ordered the design? Mara frowned; was he still playing his games, even here? It would be so like him to do that- and typical of Skywalker to spot it, his close association with his Master ensuring that he'd identify any entendré, no matter how subtle.

"Then why use it?" Hallin asked, offended on Luke's behalf, though Luke himself seemed completely indifferent, having already turned away to gaze distractedly out over the city below.

"Because I don't care; let him have his petty game. I really don't care."

Mara stared uneasily at the design of the two suns, the smaller of the two set part way behind the larger, not hearing Luke's words, something disturbingly familiar about the images, as if she'd seen them in a dream once…

.

.

As he left, Mara slipped away to catch up with Hallin. He cut through the unofficial shortcut which took him through Luke's spacious office and down the curved corridor beside the library, Mara taking the alternate route through the main cupola and running to be at the intersection point of the main hallway before Hallin, leaning casually against the wall as he rounded the corner. He slowed a few steps as he saw her, but clearly decided to try to brazen it out, setting forward again.

He didn't break pace as he continued down the corridor and past the silent Mara, aware of her disapproving gaze on him every step of the way, her eyes narrowed to emerald slits though she didn't move, didn't speak until he was three steps past her, the relative safety of the more public, surveillance-heavy hallway tantalisingly close.

"That was quite a show." Mara said, voice studied but casual. "Amazingly I never really realised until today."

"Realized what?" Hallin stopped, turning as he spoke, feigning ignorance though he knew what she was talking about.

Mara only nodded, "As I said; quite a show."

"Whatever it is you're referring to, I'm sure you're right." The medic said vaguely, hoping to disperse this, setting forward again.

"Don't get too comfortable though." Mara sniped, stopping him dead.

"Meaning?"

She shrugged, "I'd hate to think you… abused the position you've obviously worked so hard to gain. The repercussions would be… grave."

Hallin turned, "I think you have me confused with someone else- I have no ambitions above backing up a friend. And yes, I have worked very hard to gain that position; because I happen to value that friendship."

"Really? Because that was quite a display of persuasion today and if it was for my benefit I'm not impressed."

Hallin rounded on her, tone wounded and affronted at once, "Did it ever occur to you that The Commander's awkwardness today may be due to his discomfort at his new position - that he may feel that this is being forced upon him, or that he's uncertain what the Emperor expects in return?"

Mara paused before his sharp words, embarrassed by the obvious insight, "He doesn't need your protection." she maintained, unwilling to back down.

"Then whose does he have, Commander- yours?" Hallin countered dismissively, and Mara was surprised at the fire she saw in his eyes; it wasn't something she associated with the diminutive, easy-going medic.

"Does that seem so unlikely to you?" she asked; a momentary slip.

"Actually no." Hallin said, that perfectly-modulated voice as self-possessed as ever. "I'd like to think we're arguing the same point here, Commander. I don't wish to see him hurt- I assume you are searching to clarify the same. So if it helps, I can assure you that I am sincere in my commitment. I'd like so say I hold the same confidence in you… but the truth is that I can't, can I? And I'm not alone in recognizing your conflict of interest."

With that final sting, he set off down the corridor, leaving Mara to watch him go, surprised at the honesty in his words. She glanced down, the slightest of smiles touching the corners of her lips, amused in the way that a timber bear might be when cautioned by a pup's yap; it was kind of nice to think that Skywalker had someone watching his back, even if it was only Hallin.

She pushed off from the wall, shaking her head in amusement; still, she shouldn't get complacent. Some pups grew up to be house dogs… and others grew up to be wolves.

.

.

.

"Autonomy is earned." The Emperor remained casually seated on the heavy, carved chair without looking round to his charge, who paced before the bank of tall, slim windows in the audience chamber of his Cabinet like an animal caged, eyes roving the cityscape beyond, always on that dark horizon.

"When?" The boy had asked permission to leave Court and been refused again. He desperately wanted to return to his ship, to the fleet, and Palpatine's refusal had instigated this discussion again, another replaying of an old argument. Not that Palpatine minded; it was never quite the same, the boy always managing to bring some new twist to it, especially when he was as frustrated and as discontented as he was now.  
Darkness suited him; he wore it like a second skin. Just like the bespoke, hand-tailored clothes he wore, what had once seemed so obviously uncomfortable and unfamiliar had become second nature. It never failed to mesmerize; to push Palpatine to keep his work of art here for his personal appreciation just one more day. Though to say such out loud would be breaking the unspoken rules of this particular game.

"When I trust you." he said instead.

"Trust!" the word came out in a disbelieving, derisive laugh, "You'll never trust. Try another tactic, Master- that will never work."

Palpatine set his head on one side, unoffended, "Tell me, Jedi- what do you want?"

"Freedom." Luke said simply.

The Emperor only smiled, "Freedom is an illusion."

"Then give me the illusion." Luke replied doggedly.

Palpatine shook his head tolerantly, tone laced with patronising familiarity which grated against Luke's terse irritability. "You would always look for the bars, child; always seek to test them. It is in your nature."

"Why do you always speak in riddles?" Luke challenged, hearing the frustration in his own voice.

"Because you do not want to hear the truth."

"Because I don't believe that you speak it." Luke said, turning to face his Master, pulled back in to the battle for one more round, frustrated as much at himself for allowing it as at his Master for instigating it.

Palpatine only smiled, enjoying the game. He had in truth no reason to keep the boy here and they both knew it; all the official functions were done, the long list of formal procedures and protocols which accompanied the Emperor's announcement of his heir observed and concluded yet still Palpatine kept him here- in truth for no other reason than that he enjoyed the boy's company, reluctant as it was. And Skywalker knew it too- it unsettled him; offended him, as all Court life did- the distanced, indifferent façade he maintained transparent before the Force.

The Emperor grinned, thin lips pulled back from stained teeth at his fallen Jedi's frustration, , "Black and white exist only for the pawns in board games. The Force will not be bound by such absolutes- _life_ will not be bound. The truth will not be bound… and neither should you."

"There _is_ right and wrong." Luke held firm.

"Yes… but they are not the constants you try so hard to cling to and I think you know that now. And yet still you hobble yourself- try to judge your actions according to the simple allegories of children's tales. The universe is far too complex to be bound by yes and no, right and wrong, light and darkness. They are only words."

"They're not words, they're ideas." Luke refuted, "Ideals."

"Ideals which destroyed the Jedi because they tried to hold to a principle which was not viable- one which was fundamentally flawed in its naïve rigidity. The Jedi themselves were great advocates of the value of history - that we should learn by the mistakes of the past - yet they failed so completely to do so themselves."

"They gave their lives defending something they believed in." Luke said, adamant.

Palpatine set his head to one side, allowing the defiance in order not to alienate the boy before he had made his point, "You would be surprised how many doubted. How many questioned the decisions of the Council. But they were locked into a course by their own inability to adapt when it became clear how flawed their tenets were. Those few who understood - who tried to amend their actions accordingly - the Jedi hunted them down. Persecuted their own kind for nothing more impertinent than asking' W_hy?'._ How is that a crime?"

Luke glanced to the Emperor, pale eyes searching, "And that's the truth?"

The slightest smile traced Palpatine's thin lips- how wonderful that the boy would ask that of him; that he even asked it inferred that he was willing to accept the answer Palpatine gave… and _there_ was the victory.

"That is the truth." Palpatine stated without doubt.

Luke tilted his head just slightly, "But there is no 'truth'- isn't that what you just said, Master? Everything is relative. Everything you tell me is simply a point of view."

They remained still for long seconds, steadfast blue eyes locked onto calculating yellow ochre- then Palpatine threw back his head and let out a grating laugh, amused and indulgent.

"You play this game too well, child," he allowed at last, "And here I thought you did not listen."

Luke glanced away, uncomfortable; he listened. He listened to refute, but he still listened. Somehow Palpatine had always held that influence over him. That was the problem- because sometimes, the arguments wouldn't come, and then… then just occasionally, something slipped past all Luke's denials and his contentions and it lodged in his thoughts and stuck fast. Did that mean… Force help him, did that mean he listened to the old man? Were acceptance and the inability to summon yet another coherent argument the same thing?

And was it all a waste of breath now anyway, all these endless arguments and petty semantics? Did his refusal to accept the fact that he had already fallen make it any less true? Or was it simply self-delusion- the worst of all possible lies.

The dour stillness of the grand, cavernous room crushed in on him, overwhelming. He hated this place; the vast, excessive extravagance of endless maze-like halls and countless sprawling enfilades sterile and soulless, isolating and restricting despite their imposing majesty. He _hated_ this place- Palace, prison- call it what you would, the name meant nothing. He knew what it had done to him- what had been taken from him inside these towering walls. What had been stolen, ripped away like flesh from bone… and what had been lost, slipping through his fingers like dry desert sand.

The truth- the _truth_ was that he had already fallen- he knew all that he had done and he could not call it any name but evil. He knew the power which cringed at his feet and leapt with impatient, impulsive agitation whenever he lifted his hand was Darkness; absolute, infinite, unrestrained power. And yet sometimes - when he meditated and reached instinctively beyond the hulking mass of writhing Darkness - he still sensed… Light. All around him, like an uplift of air, like a pure, perfect note which fired a resonant tone within his own soul. And he knew- _he_ _knew_- that it too was part of him. He didn't even need to reach out to it; it was_ part of him_.

When he listened to the secure confidence behind Palpatine's rasping, grating tones, he was so sure; so sure he held Luke. The undisputable certainty rolled out from him in waves, engulfing and suffocating, shaping reality; rolling over it regardless. Luke's own fragile faith felt pale and ghostlike by comparison, so battered and beaten for so long that these arguments were little more than a pointless game anymore; the motions they both went through out of blank, established familiarity. Even when Luke disagreed he still laughed; _allowed_ the dissent because he knew how empty and automatic it really was. In a way that was worse; harder to fight than intimidation or pain.

He wanted to believe; _wanted_ to believe that he still had some faith, some convictions- some principle, no matter how skewed. How broken and ragged. But if, in his heart of hearts, Luke believed he had fallen, then was it the truth… or was it simply two differing points of view; his and the Emperor's?

Which was right and which was wrong… and if everything, even truth, was subjective, then how could either be either? Or was that too just another delusion he allowed himself rather than face the truth?

He shook his head, lost.

Truly lost.

"Where did it all go wrong?" he murmured, bleakly into the darkness of the city's night, eyes on that distant horizon, the dull glow of the city burning it clear of a single star.

Though his voice had been no more than a whisper, Palpatine seemed to have heard, and answered, taking any opportunity to impose his will. "Nothing _is_ wrong- except that you are still looking for bars to a cage which no longer exists, because you still want to believe that if you can find those bars, if you can break them down, you will finally be free." Palpatine rose and walked slowly over to Luke, resting pale, bone-thin fingers on the boy's shoulder, the gesture of empty reassurance masking his need to control- to possess. "You are already free, my friend. I told you once, long ago, that I would do anything to free you. I held true to that promise. That is why you are here today; you are exactly where you were always meant to be."

"The why does it _feel_ so wrong?"

"That is in you, child," His voice was indulgent and condescending, like a teacher with a favored savant, "You project your own doubts onto the Force, when it has no such reservations. You are so determined to deny the truth, but destiny is a hard thing to fight. I did not _make_ you Sith child. I only released that which was inside you already. You are your father's son and you despise him for that. That is your choice… but your heritage remains. The blood which runs through your veins is a constant. That is your strength- _that_ is what I see when I look at you. Darkness and destiny. You think that you can renounce it; reject it, but this is the Force at its most basic- elemental. This is the power which turns the galaxy and even we cannot fight that. You think you are refusing me but you are fighting a far greater force… one that will not be denied."

.

.

.

**CHAPTER SIX**

.

.

The moment Luke arrived onboard the Peerless, he knew something was wrong. The moment his foot made contact with the deck, the shiver of warning ran up his spine through the Force, like being submersed in freezing water.

The Peerless had taken the opportunity afforded by its Commander's accession to Heir and his subsequent enforced stay on Coruscant to bring forward its intended visit to the Imperial shipyards at Kuat for the latest upgrades to navigation and atmospheric shields, bringing her up to par with the partially-constructed Invincible. When he had finally been given parmission to leave Coruscant, Luke had immediately set out to return to the upgraded Peerless onboard the Fury.

A full honour-guard of the 701st, the Heir's own regiment permanently attached to the Peerless, had been waiting in perfectly-lined ranks for his arrival, everyone onboard well aware of the mark of distinction which had been bestowed upon them by extension when their Commander-in-Chief had been named Heir. At two years old still the newest Super Star Destroyer in the fleet, , the SSD Peerless had become the pre-eminent vessel of the entire Imperial military; the flagship of the Heir to the Empire. Now she was slipping majestically from dock, her massive bulk dwarfing even the sprawling mass of the Kuat Drive Yards, the Fury and the Relentless forming her guard - as if she needed one.

In the main docking bay, surrounded by the bustle of official practice and parade procedures, Luke _knew_, awareness travelling up his body as surely and familiarly as the physical vibration of a starship in motion... something was very, _very_ wrong. He paused, reaching out, spreading his senses thin to encompass the whole of the huge Super Star Destroyer- thousands of minds and intents and thoughts…

Already aboard, Mara had bowed and walked forward from the Command Staff to greet Skywalker as he stepped down the ramp, Reece close behind, but she had slowed to a halt as he froze. "What?"

"Shhh…" he intoned softly, manner distant and preoccupied.

Mara frowned, her own danger senses flaring in response as she glanced around. Skywalker remained absolutely still for a long time, eyes unfocused, head tilted just slightly, as if listening…  
She too remained still, glancing back to Reece where he stood further up the ramp, his hand slipping casually behind his back to the compact blaster Mara knew he kept concealed there as his eyes roved the hangar.

Suddenly Skywalker set forward, jaw locked, eyes stormy.

Mara spun to keep up, "What's happening?"

"I need to go to the bridge."

"Wait- is there a problem?"

"Yes."

"What is it?" She felt that she was having a decidedly one-sided conversation here…

"I don't know yet."

As he walked through his staff, Luke glanced to Admiral Joss, who had been waiting with Mara, "Battle Stations. Full alert."


	5. Chapter 5

.

_-He shouldn't be here-_ As he walked through his staff, Luke glanced to Admiral Joss, who had been waiting with Mara, "Battle Stations. Full alert."

The Admiral stared momentarily, taken aback- but to his credit, he was acting within seconds, pulling out his comm and issuing commands to other officers, everyone rushing to keep up. A siren blared through the massive hanger, red lights above the main entrance beginning to pulse then steadying to a scarlet glow.

Some distant feeling pushed at the back of Mara's thoughts, prompting her next words, "You should leave the ship."

He turned to her, not even breaking pace in his stride, Reese stepping closer beside him now, the blue-pauldrened stormtroopers who were his personal bodyguard pulling in about him. "How likely do you think that is to happen?"

Mara looked to Reece for support and he was quick to step in.

"Sir- is the danger connected to the Peerless?"

_-Shouldn't be here- _ "Yes."

"Then let us do our jobs and deal with it, Sir. Please return to the shuttle- we'll have a phalanx of TIE's escort you back to the spacedock."

Luke paused to turn to Reece, tone dry; "You want me to leave so you can deal with a problem you had no idea existed and have no indication what it is?"

Reece had spent too long in The Commander's company to flinch beneath that gaze, and held firm, "Yes Sir. Protocol dictates…"

"Do you think that argument's going to work?" Luke asked distantly, eyes still scanning the bay.

Reece looked helplessly to Mara as Skywalker turned away again, starting forward. Mara reached out to place a hand on his arm - and everything stopped.

It was an incredible breach in protocol to even step within a certain distance of The Heir publicly- to reach out and touch him was unheard of. But Mara knew Skywalker and she knew what he would and wouldn't allow. She was one of less than a handful of people who could do this and get away with it- she hoped.

He turned to her, looming over her, expression fixed and unreadable, pale eyes locked on hers…

But he didn't chastise so she held her ground, making one last try, "Commander, please…" It was a personal request, laced with genuine concern, and as such it actually held his attention for a moment… but only a moment.

"It's up and aft of our position." He said, eyes roguish and teasing, the change mercurial as ever, knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist…

"Where?" she asked at last, and he set forward, grinning.

Shaking her head, feeling a reluctant smile come to her own lips, Mara followed him.

.

The corridors were all empty now, The Commander and his mixed band of aides, officers and stormtroopers roving the ship, Luke walking several steps ahead, closely followed by a very edgy Mara and Reece, everyone waiting expectantly - for what, no-one knew…

Finally, decisively, Luke stopped and turned to the access hatch to his right.

Mara stepped forward to the sealed hatch, "Give us a minute to check…" Skywalker made the slightest motion with his hand, eyes on the shoulder-height hatch, and it slid open causing her to whirl about, blaster levelling.

"There's no-one in there." Luke said calmly, stepping forward and ducking into the low hatch which would normally allow the ship's maintenance 'droids access to internal workings. Cursing roundly beneath her breath at his stubbornness, Mara followed…and nearly walked into him when he stopped dead just inside the entrance.

Inside, set within a clear cylinder within a clear cylinder, was an explosive compression bomb, resting against and wired into what looked like the shield and propulsion systems.

Mara stared at it for long seconds - it had no chrono, no visible timer to indicate when it would blow, no remotes, no visible workings… but two long chambers of silver-coloured fluid behind about a dozen tremblers within the cylinders and, judging from the greasy taste of the air in the restricted space, some kind of energy shielding. She took a half-step forward and broke her step mid-stride, realising what she was doing, Luke stretching his hand out to take her arm in the same moment-

"Floor." He said simply, though her eyes were already turning down to the deck plates. Three of the eight fine panel-locks were missing from the corners of the sheets, indicating they'd been lifted recently and replaced in a hurry…

Mara backed carefully out, followed by Skywalker.

"Big bomb." She said dryly to Reece. "Very big bomb."

The head of security was already on his comm, summoning the bomb squad, others comming commands to vacate the area, isolate or re-route command functions and close airlocks.

Reece stepped forward, glanced into the access hatch without stepping in then turned back to The Commander, "I think it really is time to go now, Sir."

_-Shouldn't be here- _ Luke stared at him for long seconds, lost in thought, then turned to Mara. "You can handle the bomb squad? Keep me informed?"

"Of course." Mara nodded; that was _way_ too easy…

"We'll bring the Fury alongside," Reece continued. "You can monitor the situation from there."

The Commander turned without speaking and set off down the long corridor, the security compliment in tow. As he turned to go, Mara reached out and grabbed Reece's arm, "You don't seriously think he's leaving the Peerless do you?"

Reece frowned, "Well then where's he going?"

Mara glanced after Skywalker. "I have no idea. Maybe you should ask him."

Reece turned and set off after The Commander at a run. "Sir, are we heading for the docking bay?"

"Roughly."

"Sir, are you intending to leave the Peerless?" Reece clarified.

"There's another bomb."

"You're sure?"

Luke glanced sideways at Wez, raising his eyebrows. "That one was placed to be found - who leaves a bomb in plain sight? And why in a clear casing? It had more trips on it than a Hutt's purse - and after going to all that trouble, would you be so careless as to leave locking catches out of floor panels? It was left to be found and slow us down. Nothing like a big bomb to concentrate your attentions."

Reece didn't miss the implication, "So there's another?"

"Yes. Near the forward bays somewhere."

Luke continued to scout the ship, aware that he was running out of time, that something big was looming - an event wrapped about by some indefinable nothingness… and the closer he walked to the fore bays, the more defined this void became… the less ambiguous, the more fixed. Like the future consolidating…

.

Mara's voice came over the comm as they entered the forward Troop Docking Bay, directly above the TIE's Deep Storage hangers, several 'techs pausing in their assigned duties to watch the trailing band of high-ranking officers. Scattered members of the 701st, also in the hangar, came to smart attention as their Commander entered the bay.

"Reece?" Mara's voice came out over Reece's comm, Luke tilting his head to listen. "We have the specialists here. The floor's up. They say it's a staged bomb - several separate detonations - but the trigger mechanism is behind tremblers and there are remotes on the floor under the decking. No sign of any timer yet. We'll keep you informed."

Luke turned and took the comm. "Keep going. Be aware there's another bomb in the forward Troop Docking Bay."

There was the slightest of pauses, "And where are you?"

"In the fore Docking Bay." -_He shouldn't be here-_

"Figures. I'll send the team there."

"No, keep working on that one. We don't have an exact location for this one yet. Be ready to split the team though."

"Acknowledged."

"Standby." As he had spoken, Luke had finished walking the length of the cavernous bay and was now changing direction, trying to lock the nebulous feeling down, time trickling away… Finally he stopped before one of the thick internal walls, hands flat against it. There were no marks on the wall, no signs of tampering - but it practically vibrated through the Force.

_-He shouldn't be here- _ time ticked in the back of his mind.. counted down.

_-Shouldn't be here- _ the words, the knowledge coalesced with absolute clarity in the centre of his mind, pushing his body for action, making Luke tense against the bone-deep need to leave..

_-He shouldn't be here- _ His heart pound against his ribs, breath coming short;

_-Shouldn't be here..._

_-Here..._

"It's here." Luke backed up two fast steps, "What's on the other side of this wall?"

Reece turned to the Security Officer, who frowned, remembering, "Probably ordnance storage for the 701st – they're all around here. It may be munitions or fighters this close to the hanger."

Luke turned on him, "_Probably!?"_

The man paled and turned quickly, gesturing for a trooper to go and check, Luke stepping back from the wall and motioning for the officers to back up, catching Reece's eye,

_-Shouldn't be here-_

"Start evacuating the area." Luke lifted the comm as sirens began sound, maintenance crew who had been watching the strange gathering starting for exits, the 701st Deck Officer starting forward- probably to offer assistance; the whole company were theoretically his personal bodyguard. "Mara?"

Her voice came back reassuringly quickly, "We have a three-stage explosive device, connected into the defence and navigation shields - the connections to propulsion seem to peter out. There's no timer, it's a remote trigger device."

"Can they isolate the frequency, put up a dampening field?"

"No, it's receiving a constant signal; the moment it stops, it'll trigger automatically. They say about twenty minutes to diffuse it."

_-Shouldn't be here-_

"Too long." The whisper in the centre of Luke's mind was connected to every fiber of his body now like a live wire spiking, ever more demanding, spurring for action "This one will blow first. Evacuate everyone from that area and seal it. Do what you can to protect and re-route the defence shield system and get the bomb squad down to…"

.

In the access corridor nine storeys away and to aft, Mara frowned as she listened to Luke's order, hearing the tension in his voice. Grabbing the bomb-squad commander by the shoulder and gesturing for them to bug out, she turned to walk quickly down the corridor as they gathered their tools and specialist 'droids. From a distance, she heard an unknown voice over her comm as someone walked closer to Skywalker, _'Sir, the next hanger is 'tech storage. There's no device visible in there.' _

"It's in the cavity." Skywalker's voice was tight with unease. There was a long pause, then… "_BACK!!"_

The distant explosion still held the power to rock the floors even at this distance, setting decompression warnings off in sequence, Mara's heart rising into her throat…

.

Luke frowned at the comm as Mara spoke, passing on a string of orders as the Security Officer stepped towards him, "Sir, the next hanger is 'tech storage. There's no device visible in there."

He glanced up, senses on edge, threat blaring out through the Force, "It's in the cavity..." Everything twisted with a spike of alarm so extreme that he flinched beneath it, "BACK!!"

The bomb detonated, the wall exploding outwards-

Already deeply immersed in the Force, Luke dragged it in so ferociously and so intensely that it seared through him, cutting like a knife-  
In that same instant he threw it out, hands outstretched, creating two shields, one close to the bomb, the second to deflect the force of the massive blast in an arrowhead about himself and the small group of officers and troopers behind him, the power pushing him back, feet sliding against the smooth floor, massive chunks of debris thrown out about him as if they were leaves in the wind, glancing off invisible defences, embedding in walls and deck and docked ships. The floor below the bomb wrenched away, fissures ripping out, tearing solid ground from beneath his feet in a fraction of an instant-

Luke fell unprepared into the TIE hanger bay below, the shock of the blast and the massive drain of countering it leaving him stunned, darkness drowning his awareness-

The second blast detonated as he fell, the shockwave throwing him back mid-air, hurling shattered fragments toward and about him, propelling him into the side of a heavy transport which scraped across the already debris-littered bay into others-

He was oblivious before the brunt of the impact broke bones.


	6. Chapter 6

Mara came bursting into the bay, having run at full-tilt across and up several levels, the turbolifts down as the emergency systems had closed airlocks and forced her to backtrack again and again until eventually she'd taken to entering hard-wired override codes to release blast doors and airlocks, claxons blaring throughout the ship as she did so, her heart in her mouth, adrenaline burning her throat.

She entered a scene of total chaos, black smoke roiling up to gather at ceiling-level, small fires being attended by 'droids and humans alike, the thin air aiding them, though the atmospheric shields had cut in to maintain the ship's integrity, emergency systems pumping oxygen into the choked air to make it breathable again.

Many people were down - troopers mostly, medics already in attendance. Everyone capable of standing was gathered near a huge fissure ripped through the floor from the site of the blast, the space behind which was strangely untouched, the perfect floor still parade-polished. Mara ran forward, desperately scared, wildly hopeful that Luke would be stood there...

Everyone looked down through the gash in the floor, organic steel girders and power cables twisted back to spike into the massive Deep Storage Bay below, it too damaged by the blast, fighters and transports thrown back or over, dragging massive gouges into the soot-streaked floor, a mass of unsalvageable scrap. Below and behind the huge fissure which now cut through the two bays were a large group of people, gathered about a single spot. Mara climbed down the twisted wreckage, still hot to the touch, jumping the final few feet into the storage bay, running forward, pushing through the throng-

Luke lay crumpled on his back, Hallin and a team of trauma medics already there, his eyes closed, face blackened, a long deep wound running from close beside his right eye down past his cheek and through his lips, seeping blood over his face and into his hair and onto the scuffed, grubby floor.

Was he breathing? She couldn't see him breathing…

Hallin was positioning a clear tracheotomy frame to his throat with frantic, brittle efficiency, a second medic holding a massive laceration to the side of his neck together, dark, arterial blood pumping from between his fingers. Hallin pulled the release free and slapped the insert forward forcefully, the tube cutting a neat hole in Luke's throat, the back of the clear, curved frame instantly red with blood.

Skywalker's stomach hitched twice as Hallin leaned in, listening, then his chest heaved in a breath and the medic immediately leaned back, "It's clear. Quickly please."

A third medic leaned in, pressing conforming medical strip over the tracheotomy form, taping it to Skywalker's neck as Hallin took a powered field ventilator and attached it to the cleared tube.

Still he didn't move, didn't react. Didn't open his eyes.

Mara dropped down beside him, reaching out her hand, afraid to touch him. "Luke?"

The name, so rarely spoken by her, brought Hallin's eyes up momentarily in surprise. Then he was all business again, taking the IV needle as the second medic set up an intravenous feed. "It's bad- he has massive blood loss from his neck, blunt force trauma to the skull, multiple fractures and internal haemorrhaging. He's hypovolaemic - we can't wake him - he's going into shock."

Mara gently touched his shoulder, his left arm bent awkwardly away.

"Please- don't move him at all." Hallin warned, glancing at her now, belatedly realising how much this was affecting her.

His eyes went immediately back to his patient, mind completely focused. It was a hard thing, to be a personal physician, and have a friendship with the one you safeguarded. He'd spent so long worrying that this would happen- now that it had, he was at once on fire and strangely calm. "We need these people to get back- there's a trauma capsule on its way. I need to get fluids into him before we can move him or we'll lose him right here from multiple organ failure." He glanced up, "Mara- Commander Jade?"

She stared at him blankly for several seconds, all colour gone from her face, then seemed to realise where she was and rose quickly, turning on those about her, "Everyone back! Get back - give him some room."

.

She spent the next fourteen hours stood outside the Peerless' main surgical bay as medical capsules were brought in, some carrying wounded, others carrying those long past any help.

Reece was among the wounded; concussion and shrapnel injuries, and though he hadn't been able to help, the story of what had transpired came together very quickly. Mara hadn't yet bothered to go up to the security Ops room to check the surveillance images which would have been fed to the main bank right up until the moment the blast had severed the connection. She had, however, been the one who'd had to go to Comms and tell her master. Which hadn't gone well.

The Executor was en-route, due to arrive in four hours, the Fury and the Relentless having already been joined by the Intrepid and the Dauntless, everyone primed for another attack. So now all there was left to do was wait…

Skywalker still hadn't woken and was laid on his back in Intensive Care, the bed carefully angled to protect against ventilator-assisted pneumonia from the tracheotomy, sutures running a long line down his face and resuming over the deep laceration at his neck, his right eye swollen closed, another deep, sutured gash disappearing into his hairline.

A series of pins had been constructed to support his left arm, shoulder, both collar-bones and his left shoulder-blade, all shattered in the explosion, and amother long line of sutures marked the surgical scar which ran from collar-bone to stomach, where he'd been opened up to deal with internal bleeding.

Not yet stable enough for bacta, he was now on full life-support, one of his lungs collapsed, heartbeat arythmic, massive blood loss, blood pressure not yet stabilising. He was, apparently, of a rare blood group and despite Hallin's constant requests, Luke never bothered to give any of his own blood to be kept in storage for just such an emergency. It wasn't particularly that he thought he was untouchable, Mara knew; he just didn't really care.

"What are his chances?" Mara whispered, voice broken with guilt; he had been her responsibility- hers alone.

Hallin remained silent for long seconds- probably choosing his words with care, Mara reflected. "We will, of course, do all we can for him, but until we can stabilise him it's difficult to provide any prognosis."

Mara turned to him, "Which means?"

"Very serious. Critical, until we can stabilise him."

Mara tried a different tack - she was after all a trained agent, and knew how to keep pushing until she got the truth- "Will he wake up?"

"I don't know. His coma could be as a result of the hypovolemia - he lost around thirty percent of blood volume - or more likely traumatic brain injury. He had four seizures on the operating table, which would seem to indicate ongoing damage from brain contusions, though there's no serious skull fractures. We've re-established perfusion to the organs, but we weren't instantly able to put him on anticoagulants due to the internal bleeding into his abdominal cavity. Now he's out of surgery we can monitor that more closely, but all indications are that the coma will persist so I daren't put him into bacta. We'll know more within the next few hours I think."

The silence hung for a long time, punctuated by the steady wheeze of the respirator and the gentle pips of the life support, before Mara found her voice. "Vader will be here in four hours. We'll transfer him to the Executor then and jump for Coruscant, with a mid-jump stop to allow trauma specialists to board from the Dominant, which is en-route to us from Coruscant."

"Move him?" Hallin's voice expressed his opinion of that.

"Well we can't fly back in the Peerless, can we?"

The Peerless had sustained damage to her forward bays, leaving them partially open to space over several levels, only the outer environmental compression shields maintaining atmospheric pressure. The first bomb connected to the shields had been far smaller than originally thought, so with mobile blast shields set about it to minimise the damage and internal seals engaged, it had caused little damage outside of a close radius whenit detonated. But it had still done its job efficiently; they were effectively flying without navigation shields, so the Peerless certainly wasn't in any fit state to jump.

How anyone in the fore bays had survived that explosion was beyond Mara- that gravity had held and the whole bay hadn't decompressed was a miracle.  
Or maybe not- initial reports indicated that the blast from the two-stage explosion in the bay had been channelled down, preventing the force of the discharge from ripping the external walls of the bay wide open to space and thus explosive decompression over many levels, which would have instantly killed everyone in the bays effected. Yet on early inspection the recovered fragments of the bomb casing indicated no such feature.

Had Skywalker found the time, Mara wondered, to limit the damage- to direct the blast?

Was that even possible?

There was, to Mara's memory, only a fraction of a second between his shouting _'Back!'_ and the sound of the explosion. Had he been able not only to form a Force-shield strong enough to withstand a four-click explosion, but also have enough power left to actually control the direction of blast itself?

She looked at the broken, bruised man before her, still as death, a cold weight settling in her stomach. He'd probably saved a couple of hundred lives…but had the cost been his own?

.

.

.

Leia sat quietly in the noisy, bustling main fighter bay of Home-One, waiting for Han's flight to come back; they were due about five minutes ago, so it could be any time now. In the meantime, she stared out into the velvet blackness, eyes drawn to the distant moon of the inhospitable Anzat, thoughts far away. Beside her, his fur warm against the chill of the cool docking bay, Chewie crooned lightly, dismayed by the news she'd just given him. enough so that he'd decided to come along to mediate in this coming confession, though it was hardly Leia's fault; she'd been as in the dark as everyone else here, and she knew exactly why; they hadn't trusted her not to tell Han…

They were probably right.

The first of the A-Wings came in hot and effected a sharp stop, repulsor engines cutting in as its sublights cut out, bobbing it precariously on the spot as several others came in to land close by, the rest waiting outside the bay for a clear slot. Leia sighed as Han's A-Wing came in to a fast landing, then she rose, dusting imaginary dirt from her pale blue trousers as she set forward.

Popping the canopy on his fighter Han grinned, seeing her set toward him, Chewie in tow, "Hey, what's this, a welcome committee?"

Leia didn't smile, and Han pulled off his helmet, sitting up on the side of the cockpit to swing his legs clear, "Woah, who died?" Even as he said it he bit his tongue; it was a real day-to-day occurrence here and he felt he'd jinxed someone by even saying it.

"Han, I heard some news and… I thought you should know- I wanted to tell you myself."

Kini, one of the 'techs, stepped in, oblivious to the grave conversation, running her expert hand over the still-freezing panels of the A-Wing as she did so, "Hey, Commander- hear the news? There's no Heir any more, courtesy of the Alliance!" She paused, unaware of his widening eyes, rolling her panel-gauge backwards over her fingers like a gunslinger, "Boom!! Just like that!"

Han spun round to Leia, who cursed beneath her breath; she'd wasted the last half-hour in the bay waiting for Solo to come back, wanting to be the one who broke it to him…

"Is that true?"

She shook her head, "I didn't know - nobody did. It was a covert operation; strictly need-to-know."

"Whose?" Han ground the word, making Leia worry that he may well march from the bay right now and find them.

"Madine had a unit at Kuat Shipyards… the Peerless was being outfitted there… " She didn't know what else to say.

In truth it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise; Mon Mothma had made no secret of her intent to bring The Heir down, though no specific plan had ever been mentioned. Somehow Leia still couldn't believe it and somehow… she'd know it was happening. She'd dreamed of the black wolf last night, though as often happened in the light of day, she couldn't quite bring the dream to mind anymore. All she knew was that it had been there again… hunting. Had Mon been there too? She narrowed her eyes, almost remembering…

"So, what? They planted a _bomb_?" Han asked, disgusted; cowards way. If you were gonna kill somebody, you should at least have the decency to look him in the eyes when you did it.

"Two. Mon disclosed the details about an hour ago. Madine had organised and implemented the action and she had authorised it. No-one else was told, to avoid any leaks."

"Avoid any leaks!" Han dismissed sceptically, "Avoid any arguments, more likely. All wrapped up, nice and neat, huh?"

She looked down and Han's gaze turned up to Chewie who keened in mournful agreement. The truth was Han had no idea how to take this news; no idea if this was a bad thing or a good. All he knew was that regardless of… everything, the kid had been a friend and there weren't that many he gave that name to. And now… "They're… sure?" he asked awkwardly, chiding himself for looking for hope.

Leia nodded, "Pretty sure, yes. They had confirmation that he was inside the bay when the bomb blew. We've been listening on all official channels since before dawn, and they've been like livewires, but nothing's been mentioned to contradict that."

Han nodded his head, completely bewildered as to what he should do next. Finally, pursing his lips, he set off across the bay, jaw tense,face like thunder. Leia made to follow, but Chewie took her arm to keep her there, shaking his head as he gruffed advice, knowing she would understand his action if not his words; "Let him go."

.

.

.

**CHAPTER**** SEVEN**

.

.

Hallin turned back into the medibay, having been called away yet again to answer a deeply troubling comm – not only because of its originator, the Emperor, expected almost hourly updates on his patient – but once again because of its content.

In his first comm, days earlier, he'd been to be closely quizzed on every aspect of The Heir's injuries whilst actually still in surgery, the comm being held by a rather squeamish-looking officer whilst Hallin remained in surgery, gloved hands held out before him, five surgical 'droids continuing to work to repair internal injuries, another team of five attempting to reconstruct the shattered arm, oblivious.

Palpatine had gone to great lengths to clarify in no uncertain terms that, although Hallin had explained the nature of the extensive injuries to The Heir's left arm would suggest amputation, under no circumstances was this to happen. Amputation was _not_ an option unless the injury became life-threatening, and even then, it was only by direct permission of the Emperor; if this caused complications later, then they would be dealt with. For now, Hallin's job was to stabilise Skywalker until Lord Vader's arrival.

On his next comm, the Emperor had clarified which drugs may and may not be used, based on their effects on a Force-sensitive individual.

Another comm was to communicate the fact that should The Heir die, various organic samples were to be collected before any cellular breakdown began, this to be done in absolute secrecy, even from Jade, Reece and Lord Vader.

This latest comm had been to make very clear, as only Palpatine could, the consequences that The Heirs death would have on Hallin's own life-expectancy. Which weren't too rosy.

All of which left Hallin in something of a quandary. Because, if it came down to it, his loyalties lay squarely with Skywalker and _not_ with the Emperor- as they had done for some time now. Consequently he'd stopped off once again at Reece's quarters, where The Heir regularly removed any surveillance devices, to discuss the comms again. Now, on his way back to intensive care, he was yet again fretting over the fact that, unless Skywalker woke, their hands were pretty much tied…

He passed the numerous troopers and security details arranged outside his medibay and trudged tiredly through the darkened bay, glancing through the semi-closed, slatted privacy blind of the transparent wall, momentarily able to see through the blinds at this particular angle- and stopped dead.

Mara Jade was still in there, as she had been almost every hour of the last four days, draped on a chair beside the bed, her unmistakable gold-flecked red hair almost glowing in the low light. In the darkness of the room she was sleeping, head leant on the edge of The Commander's high medical bed, arm crooked up to lie there… hand resting on Skywalker's, her fingers entwined around his.

Hallin remained frozen, stock-still. Had he not glanced up at just the right moment, he would never have seen. Were they…?

Mara had always been with The Commander, as long as Hallin had known him, and he knew that The Commander purposely kept her close, that he allowed no slurs of her… yet he had also told both Hallin and Reece that she was _not_ to be trusted. Then again, he always played his cards close to his chest and unless he felt they actually needed to know, chances were he wouldn't tell them. And even Hallin could see that Mara was a stunning woman- if one was that way inclined, which he wasn't. It occurred to him suddenly to wonder if Reece knew about this… or maybe he was reading far too much into it?

Stepping toward the entrance, he kicked against the bottom of the door before hitting the release, coughing deeply, eyes down as he walked in… and lo, when he'd entered the room and looked up, Jade was sat bolt upright, both hands on the chair arms.

Interesting…

.

Five days later, Hallin was nervously escorting Skywalker down the ramp of the shuttle which had landed on one of the small dedicated Tower pads close to the Palace's private Medi-center, a full-array medical capsule serving as life support. Skywalker's condition had remained critical as he had dropped into a coma, the arrival of Lord Vader halting that gradual decline as Vader remained every subsequent hour with his son, often standing at the head of the bed, gloved hands resting against Skywalker's temples, or to the side, hand resting on his son's surgery-scarred chest, head down in concentration.

He had twice been readmitted to surgery when his blood-pressure had drastically dropped, the second time enabling one of the trauma specialists the Executor had made a brief stop to bring onboard to lend his own expertise to the medical team presently staking not just their reputations, but very probably their lives on their ability to heal The Heir.

At the moment, it was a battle just to keep him alive.

They paused briefly on the platform as the Emperor stalked forward, face tight and pinched, skin sallow in the harsh light of day. He reached out briefly to rest his hand on the sealed sled, then stepped back to allow the solemn, nervous little contingent of white-dressed medics to pass, all eyes and attention on the sled's delicate passenger.

Hallin didn't even particularly relax when Skywalker was ensconced in the Intensive Care Unit, since all they had been able to do to date was keep pace with the situation, no real stability ensured as yet, and the truth was that there were no more advanced facilities or staff available here in the Palace than had existed on the Peerless.

Skywalker hadn't once gained consciousness, nor had his brain dropped into the particular pattern that would indicate any kind of Force-induced trance, save for when his father stood quietly beside him, hand resting gently on his temples, as he was now.

Lord Vader had been… surprisingly subdued throughout his son's struggle, remaining at his side almost constantly, thus rendering Jade unable to do the same since they had boarded the Executor five days ago, she and Lord Vader having a history as a volatile combination at the very best of times. Hallin had expected explosive retribution rained down on all about Vader from the moment he arrived, yet he had kept strangely, uncharacteristically passive. Restrained and self-possessed, even when his son had been rushed back into surgery.

Now the medi-center doors slid open to the Emperor and his entourage, whom he gestured to remain outside as he stepped forward, cold yellow eyes locking mercilessly on Hallin."How is my Jedi, Medic?"

"He's um… st.. em.." _P__ull yourself together, man!_ "He… remains in a critical condition I'm afraid, Excellency. His injuries were very severe - the proximity of the blast caused blunt and penetrating trauma leading to internal haemorrhaging and hypovolaemic shock. He also has blunt trauma hairline fractures to the skull which caused early seizures. Subsequent scans have shown this to be under control, though we have no prognosis as to complications yet. He also suffered traumatic internal injuries from shrapnel, some of which are very serious - one piece punctured his trachea, causing acute damage and his consequent blood loss. The resultant dip in blood-pressure further restricted oxygen flow to the brain. As you know, he also has compound, comminuted and spiral fractures to his left side which have shattered the radius and humerus of his arm as well as the acromion, scapula and both clavicle. The final impact also caused spinal injuries to L-four and five, and it was probably this which dislocated his femur and ankle and broke several ribs, one of them puncturing his right lung."

"I did not ask what had _happened_," the Emperor ground out, "I asked his present condition."

Hallin took a heartbeat to calm himself; _Not blinded by medical terms then_. "In this kind of severe trauma, there are often secondary repercussions due to shock and resultant complications, and it's these which are causing problems now, making it difficult to stabilise the patient, though the team presently in attendance are extremely experienced, and we are trying our level best."

"Without any real effect, is that what you're trying to say?"

Hallin remained silent before that cutting observation.

Palpatine turned away, disgusted, to walk into the dim of the life-support bay and stand beside the boy, his father stepping back, straightening to bow deferentially, the act completely ignored by the Emperor.

There was a stillness to the boy, in body and mind- a stillness within the Force. He reached out to rest his hand on the boy's lacerated chest, spindly fingers spreading as he closed his eyes and searched… a tiny spark remained, neither dwindling nor trying to reignite. Palpatine opened his eyes, frustrated and apprehensive. Had all this work - all this expenditure of energy and time, been for nothing?

It would not be the end of his greater plan were the boy to die now, though it would delay it considerably. Still, the boy could be kept alive physically until his usefulness was at an end. But Palpatine didn't wish to lose that which he had invested so much in creating. He didn't wish to lose this power. He stared at his fallen Jedi for a long time, watching his chest rise and fall mechanically in the dim lights of the medical units. Finally he reached up to brush a long, curved nail down the deep, severe scar which ran from above his Jedi's blood-bruised eye down his cheek and through his pale lips, still swollen and split.

Slowly, he became aware of the boy's father stood silently nearby and lifted his head.

Vader watched the Emperor press his hand to the boy's chest, searching for his familiar presence in the Force, normally a rush of incandescent light, now little more than an ember, and he knew what his Master would say.  
He watched him study the boy, lost in thought, seeing only his precious plans and his manipulations, afraid that he might lose them, and still he knew what the Emperor would say.  
He watched him reach out to touch the angry, ugly gash which scarred his son's face from forehead to chin, burning Vader as if it were his own, and he waited for the words he knew would come.

He knew they'd come because he'd thought them himself a thousand times since he'd seen his son laid unconscious and injured, bloody and bruised, still as the grave.

Palpatine looked up to him, cold voice hard and gravelly, absolutely unyielding; "It should have been you."

He turned and walked from the room, leaving Vader to lower his head back to his son, wishing absolutely that it had been.

.

.

.

Hallin stood quietly by the bed, checking the readouts for the umpteenth time that day, willing some kind of change.

He gently tried to pry open The Commander's right eye, both the white of the anterior chamber and the iris still flooded completely red from internal haemorrhaging, blood darkening over the days but not yet clearing. This too had been injured by whatever had hit his face, the iris split and the lens damaged, causing fears that he may well lose sight in that eye. Specialists had reassured that it could be treated or replaced, and everyone was simply waiting for the blood to clear and the lens to reattach as the swelling went down, before they made a more accurate prognosis.

Everyone was simply waiting…

Fifteen days since the explosion, and everyone was _still_ waiting. Fourteen days put Luke past the preferred norm, but still a long way from the upper limit of thirty-five - but he was now officially beginning to cut into his chances of a full recovery and increase his chances of regression into a vegetative state.

Hallin leaned in close and said loudly and clearly, "Wake _up_. You're doing this on purpose and it is _not_ funny."

He checked Skywalker's left arm, still encased in strapped polycarbonate forms, long organic steel tension bars protruding from wrist to elbow and elbow to shoulder, taking the strain of broken bones too badly damaged to hold otherwise, another two maintaining tension across his shattered collarbones. A separate team of three surgical 'droids had taken almost seven hours to reassemble the shattered fragments of bone to save the arm whilst Hallin's team of surgical 'droids had concentrated on tracking down internal injuries in that first mammoth surgical session.

They'd replaced lost fragments with porous, lab-grown polyhusk, laminating the shattered remnants together and securing them with dozens of fine surgical pins, using external tension bars to relieve pressure on the delicate repairs, veneering the reassembled bones and joint surfaces with xenotol. They'd re-laid shredded muscle, scaled from the bone by the fury of the blast, packing the wound with more cultures where mass was lost before suturing the surface, using bacta-impregnated synthiflesh where nothing was left to suture then setting the arm in moulded, polycarbonate splints, sections cut free to allow for the bars set into the bone, two further external tension bars set into bloody, bruised skin over his collarbones, rising gently now with the rasp of the ventilator.

Nathan checked the tracheotomy tube which kept Luke's reconstructed trachea open and the fluid tap which drained his collapsed lung, remaining due to necessity, then he turned his eyes back to the organic steel pins and bars of Skywalker's arm, frowning. It was a mess, and would have been far better removed. Hallin had intended to do so - had already loaded the amputation program into the surgical 'droids when the Emperor's comm had stopped him. Now it would be at best a long, difficult recovery.

Luke's prosthetic right hand, damaged beyond repair, had been removed. Synthiflesh was already being cultivated over a new replacement prosthesis, the wet-wired connections which joined synthetic and organic nerves together carefully re-spliced and left inactive, bundled together in preparation for the fitting. The long, chromed locking bar which had been grafted into the bone when the first prosthesis had been fitted three years ago protruded unnervingly from the scarred stump, the bundle of wet-wire connections pulled back and taped to his arm.

In short, he looked dreadful - scarily so in fact, even to Hallin. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes, "You may have slept, my friend, but you're costing me way too much of the same. If you wouldn't mind waking up now, maybe I could get a little shut-eye?"

Someone tapped lightly on the door, catching Hallin's attention; Commander Jade raised her eyebrows in question and he nodded her in.

"Any change?" She murmured, hesitant and hopeful. It had been five days since she'd last visited; the day they'd arrived at the Palace

Hallin shook his head. "Nothing, I'm sorry. Perhaps you'd like to sit a while with him? Lord Vader will be gone for a few hours." He instantly regretted adding the last; it was impolitic of him to speak so openly here; proof of how little sleep he was existing on, but she didn't glance up from Skywalker, only nodded and stepped forward.

"You should speak to him." Hallin prompted, "His eardrums are repairing so he can hear you now. Sometimes it helps." He heard the defeat in his own voice but was too tired to hide it, turning to shuffle from the room.

As he reached the door, Jade called him gently, "Hallin? I just wanted to…" Her face was uneasy as he turned to her, her voice lacking its usual confidence. "…. Thanks. For stepping in. I know it was you."

He smiled tiredly, "Are there no secrets in this place?"

She set her head to one side, green eyes bright in the low light, "More than you think."

Hallin froze at that, but managed the slightest of disconcerted smiles, and for the first time, she allowed one back, glancing away as she did so, "Anyway… thanks."

He raised his eyebrows, glancing pointedly to Luke before he turned to leave, his perfectly-modulated tones as pithy as ever. "I didn't do it for you."

.

Mara turned back to Skywalker, smiling affectionately, "Hey, remember me?" She had been banned from visiting Luke since they'd arrived, Palpatine rounding on her that first night when he had found her in the room.

"What are you doing here?" he'd grated, making Mara flinch inwardly. This was the first time she had seen him since her arrival, and she'd been expecting some kind of rebuke.

"I was… checking…"

"You have no right to be here." His words caustic with accusation and Mara frowned, uncertain, his stare withering her.

"Since you seem incapable of carrying out the task which I assigned you, you are hereby relieved of it. Return to your quarters. There will be no more contact between yourself and my Jedi."

Mara had shrunk back before that, the punishment settling like a stone in her stomach, leaving her cold. "I couldn't stop him- I tried to make him…"

"_Tried?"_ He bit out, tone mocking and dismissive. "The Emperor's Hand does not _try_- she does not whine like a child. You're pathetic- get out."

He turned to his Jedi, hand reaching out, then glanced up at Mara who had remained frozen to the spot,

"_GET OUT!!"_ he shouted, and the body-blow in the Force sent her staggering backwards, knocking the air from her lungs in a gasp, making her lift her hands in defence as she slammed into the wall behind her.

Skywalker flinched in sleep, the readouts on the monitors peaking momentarily, bringing the Emperor's eyes back down to him.

He didn't look up as Mara gathered herself together, bowed before her master and walked shakily from the room. She'd passed Hallin in the corridor - he never went far from The Heir - but didn't turn or acknowledge him, head down, eyes glassy.

And now, suddenly, she was allowed back. After five stomach-churning days of worry and countless comms to his apartments enquiring as to his condition, all of which had been returned with the short, official form explanation that The Heir was unavailable at the present time, his whereabouts confidential.

Then, less than an hour ago, she'd been visited by Saté Pestage. The Emperor, he informed her, had in his magnanimous generosity, decided that she would be allowed one more chance to reprieve his low opinion of her. She would be reinstated – on parole – to her previous position. Not because he had any great faith in her, but because he had been advised that medically, at the present time it was in The Heir's interests to keep those with whom he was familiar close.

She'd walked straight here- practically ran.

.

Now she sat alone in the room with the man who had slowly crept under and around every barrier she'd constructed to keep him out. Without even realising it - that was the galling thing; he didn't even know. But whether he knew it or not, he was under her skin and messing with her head and making her stomach do little backflips whenever he let his own shields down just enough to flash her a grin or a sideways glance full of dry humour and easy charm. Five days away from him, the threat that she may never see him again hanging like a thunderstorm over her head, had clarified a few things which had been stewing for way too long.

From an early age she'd lived in the Palace, and she'd always been taught that one day she would be a soldier, and a soldier learned that in any tough situation, you step back and you calm down and you look at the facts. You come to a conclusion based on those facts then you decide a course of action which will bring that conclusion and your mission objectives to a convergent route.

It had taken her a long, long time to reach those conclusions about Luke and realise just exactly what she wanted that optimum outcome to be, all of which clarified as never before that some things just defied logic and when they did, you had to throw the rule book out the window and damn well get on with it. Live with it. Deal with it. Stop trying to ignore it. She'd tried that for the last three years and the results weren't exactly sparkling to date.

New tack. New direction; "You listen to me, Luke Skywalker,"

She'd meant it to come out fierce and angry but it was small and scared and the rarity of that just made her all the more so, "You listen to me and stop messing around. You get your ass back in gear and open your eyes 'cos if you think for one moment that I'm gonna let you leave me all alone again then you are very wrong. This is _all_ your fault - you and your stupid, big blue eyes. Well you'd just better open them before I black 'em both! Who the hell am I gonna play sabacc with if you're not here? I don't even _like_ sabacc! I spend ten hours a week playing a game I don't even _like_ and owe you about two years' wages! That should tell you something…. for a guy who can read minds, you seem to have a hell of a hard time knowing mine."

She studied him for a long time, looking for some response…

Eventually, she slumped again, reaching out to run the back of her fingers down his bruised cheek, pushing his hair back gently as she sighed deeply. "Wake up, Skywalker." She murmured at last, "Don't mess with my head. You're already messing with my heart."

.

Hallin stood in attentive silence several steps away from the door, hidden by the turn in the wall, smiling. This was what he needed - forget all the scans and the facts and the figures - _this_ was what Luke Skywalker needed. He needed someone who cared for him, whom he had some connection to, to come in here and lead him back out. He needed someone he _wanted_ to hear - he needed someone who needed him.

"Damn I'm good." Hallin murmured, walking away.

.

.

.

Days of waiting were marked by the staggered disappearance of medical machinery as a broken body slowly took time to heal, and the featureless square room which was once crowded by life-support systems fell to still silence as each one was removed. The pips and the beeps and the regulated, rasping breaths of the tracheostomy air exchange, which had formed the clinical background chatter of the room for so long, fell one by one to silence as medical intervention was no longer required until eventually all that was left was the neural monitor interface and the cradle scanner which still ran its silent track up and down beneath the bed, scanning its occupant with a muted '_pip'_ every time it returned to the cradle.

And still he didn't wake.

Sometimes, unsettlingly, he would lay for long periods of time with his eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling, blinking with exaggerated slowness. This was the most disquieting thing of all to Mara, who didn't know that coma victims did such things, unsettled by the impassive, unaffected stillness behind those blank eyes.

His right eye remained swollen half-closed, the deep slice which ran the length of his face having taken a gouge from his lid and rendered the eye - barely visible beneath the swelling - completely red, both white and iris infused with blood. Hallin would enter often, talking and bustling about as he checked IV's and performed hourly tests without fail, explaining his actions, warning when something would hurt, looking for a reaction, always acting as if Luke were awake and aware.

But he wasn't.

Mara knew she should stand on guard outside the room, but couldn't bring herself to leave him alone to stare in blank silence at nothing. Couldn't bring herself to think that he may remain in this state as the days came and went… and he did.

All the while her master's accusations rang in her head- that she had failed. Both her master and Skywalker. And for the first time she began to wonder… which bothered her most?

.

Days came and went. Five, then six, then seven…and Hallin began to worry that maybe he wasn't quite so good.

He knocked politely and leaned in through the door to look at Mara. "How's he doing?"

"Oh, he flashed the little blue light at me a few times." she said dryly, glancing up at the readouts behind her, "I think he was just showing off."

"That's good- blue is good." Hallin said, smiling slightly before stepping back out of the room.

They had come to an unspoken agreement, he and Jade; neither of them mentioned anything. He acted as if he hadn't worked it all out about she and Skywalker, and she acted as if she hadn't realised he'd worked it all out… which dovetailed quite nicely.

He wandered over to conference room nine, where yet another group of specialists had been brought in by the Emperor to deal with the problem. Hallin was quite proud - very proud in fact - of the way he'd managed to deflect blame neatly away from himself for the last week or so and onto a variety of specialists whom he'd basically shipped in specially for the purpose of keeping Palpatine off his back unil Luke finally opened his damn eyes. It wasn't as if any of them could refuse…

Time to meet this week's cannon-fodder.

.

Mara sat quietly in the room, automemo on her lap, reading today's dispatches out loud for want of anything else to say, pointing any she thought he might like to know out to Skywalker, passing the occasional comment as she did so. "… of course, it's easy for them to say changing the Rim borders will clarify the…" she trailed off as the life-support made a disturbing new sound, what had been a low, regular beep for the last week raising in pitch then joining to a staccato tone.

"Chell!" She cursed, jumping up to reach over to the alert resting on the far side of the bed-

and glancing down into open, slow-blinking eyes.

"…Luke?" she dropped the alarm comm in her surprise, distantly hearing it clatter to the floor, aware that there was something different this time - that this was awareness.

"Hey, look at you," she said gently, heart pounding, "Welcome back to the land of the living."

He blinked several times, and Mara tried not to notice his right eye, which still had no white at all, even the iris shot through with the dark, reddy-brown of old blood, then his unfocused gaze drifted up to the ceiling. Mara was prevented from saying any more by Hallin barrelling in through the door, skidding to a halt and leaned in close, fumbling for something in his many pockets before eventually giving up.

"Commander, can you hear me?"

Luke didn't look, and Hallin repeated the question a little louder, Mara stepping back to give him room. He moved in, snapping his fingers before Luke's eyes, to worryingly little effect as far as Mara was concerned.

"Commander…Luke? Luke, I need you to look at me. Luke?" Hallin again snapped is fingers, Luke finally lowering his gaze just slightly towards them, though his eyes bobbed and weaved and he blinked constantly.

"Luke, I need you to speak to me. Can you say your name?" With no answer or acknowledgment forthcoming, Hallin leaned in closer, "Luke can you hear me? Luke, I need you to say 'yes'…this is very important… you need to say 'yes'."

Mara watched hopelessly as Luke's vague awareness drifted, bruised eyes gradually closing.

"Luke?" she asked at last, but he was gone, eyelids fluttering shut, the audio marker on the display dropping slowly to a pulse again. Mara sighed deeply dispirited.

"Well, that was pretty positive."

Hallin practically beamed, bringing Mara's eyes to him in disbelief. "How the hell do you work that out?"

"He woke up." Hallin nodded in reassurance as he looked to the readouts, "Everything will be fine - there's nothing wrong with his brain activity, no damage on any scans. We just needed him to open his damn eyes."

Mara raised her eyebrows in accusation, "You said that some patients never progress beyond basic responses."

"I did, that's true. But neurological damage is minimum and he's regained consciousness well within that thirty-five day window of maximum potential… everything will be fine now Commander Jade. Trust me." He practically buzzed with excitement and relief, gesturing to the automemo she held when Mara continued to stare at him, "You should…keep going with that. Clearly he likes it. What were you reading?"

She glanced down, askance. "Just dispatches."

"Ah." Hallin deadpanned, keeping a serious face, "He always likes to keep up with current events."

Mara raised her eyebrows, not knowing whether the strange, slight medic was joking or not.

.

.

.

Day fell into night but Hallin remained in a buoyant mood as the scanners showed sustained, elevated brain activity, Luke just a few beats away from sleeping, now. Despite his assurances to Jade, somewhere in the back of his head Nathan had been dreading the spectre of a slow decline from coma to a persistent vegetative state then a minimally conscious one and eventually brain death, or death from complications. He hadn't realised until now just how afraid he'd been of losing Luke. He headed back to do a final check of his patient for tonight, confident that in a day - two at the most…

He stopped dead as he entered the room. The Emperor was leaning forward over Skywalker, hand resting lightly on the long surgical scar which ran down his chest.

Hallin hadn't been informed that the Emperor was here and no extra guards had given his presence away, so now he simply froze, uncertain what to do.

Palpatine didn't turn as Hallin finally remembered to bow.

"My Jedi woke today." It was a statement, not a question. Hallin had of course informed the Emperor's office as soon as Luke had woken, but still, something told him that Palpatine would have known anyway. A small shiver ran down his spine, at what he didn't know; some distant alarm sounding…

He finally found his voice, "Yes, Excellency. Just for a few moments, but I'm confident that he's turned that corner."

He stepped forward just slightly then stopped, deeply uncomfortable. Palpatine didn't move, didn't turn away from his study of Skywalker's face, hand remaining lightly pressed against his chest. The brittle silence stretched out, until Hallin could stand it no more. "The um…the scars, we've been treating with Inabertol and bacta. It will diminish the…"

"Not these." Palpatine said, finally lifting his hand to gently run the back of one ridged nail down the long, severe scar which ran from Skywalker's eye down his right cheek and through his lips, trailing down onto the still-severe wound at his throat. "These he'll keep. A permanent reminder of betrayal; the limits of misplaced trust."

Hallin frowned, voice barely a whisper beneath the intensity of the Emperor's will. "You want me to stop treating them?"

The Emperor set his head on one side, continuing quietly as if Hallin had not spoken, "Art should have a signature. Until it does, one is never quite sure that it is truly finished. And it suits him – suits his nature… He's become rather… striking, don't you think? Charismatic; fascinating in his contradictions."

Hallin slowed, realisation running cold down his spine. "I'm not…"

Palpatine turned on him, yellow eyes seeming to glow in the low light, "Don't you think?"

Hallin fell to silence, frozen to the spot, no idea of how to diffuse this, then the Emperor laughed just slightly, amused, "Oh, don't worry, medic. This one has a built-in immunity- it's kept him safe for this long."

He turned back, leaning in to touch the grim scar just above the sleeping man's lips, long, thin fingers so pale as to be bonelike in the low light, trembling just slightly as they hovered there. Then he turned away, walking slowly past Hallin, his gnarled cane clicking against the sterile floor. He paused beside the medic without looking round, voice coolly perceptive, as if sharing some unspoken mutual accord, "One may appreciate a work of art even if one cannot own it- but then you know that, medic… no?"

Hallin remained still, eyes down, and eventually the Emperor walked on, his cane tak-takking into the distance, its every strike sending a jarring pulse up Hallin's spine.

.

.

.

"He's not dead." Leia said simply as she came to a stop, bringing Han's eyes quizzically up to her from his breakfast plate.

"What?"

"He's not dead; we didn't get him. He's on Coruscant."

Han's eyes lit, a lopsided grin of realisation spreading across his face, "Luke?"

"Whoever." Leia shrugged, sitting down beside him and gazing down at her own plate to hide her face. For some reason, she could feel the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth too, much as she tried to repress it. It had just never _felt_ right; not that way.

"Hey, kid's bombproof as well now, huh?" Han crowed, amused.

"No. we hurt him pretty bad, we think. We only have a few fragments of information, but Tag put it all together and could only make it make sense one way. He's alive but badly injured. He was taken to Coruscant immediately, she thinks, when the Executor made orbit there a few weeks ago. The Bothans say the official line in the Palace is that The Heir is unavailable at present, on an assignment for the Emperor, yet all his Aids and adjutants are still at the Palace, including Jade and Reece, both of whom he never goes anywhere without. But there've been absolutely no sightings of him, and there are only two guards outside the Perlemian Apartments, which Massa thinks points to his being too ill to be allowed to return to his own apartments." Leia shrugged, "This is all conjecture of course, but since they've not announced his death by now, we have to assume he's alive. Added to that is the fact that his personal medic hasn't left the medicentre for weeks and he's generally close to The Heir, plus all kinds of specialists are being summoned to the Palace on a daily basis, and no-one else seems ill. The reasonable conclusion is that he's alive but badly injured and in the Palace medicentre. Tag is working every trick she knows and pulling in anything even vaguely related to try and get something more concrete. "

Han nodded his head, aware that Intel had been going ballistic since the assassination attempt had been announced, firstly because they were kept out of the loop and secondly because they now needed to get some kind of solid evidence either way, but because they hadn't known about the attempt, they had no-one in place to do so. Every resource had been committed to that goal within hours and the initial intelligence had looked good. The Peerless had returned to the Kuat Shipyards and the Heir wasn't seen to disembark, the official line being that a recent repair had failed. But the unit Madine had placed there to lay the bombs had verified that there was visible blast damage as it came in to dock… and then fallen off the radar; simply disappeared.  
Again, the normally cool, unflappable Massa had stood up to make her point in no uncertain terms that if she'd been in the loop, then this could probably have been avoided.

Leia lifted up one of the graincakes from the plate she'd been carrying; it was almost lunchtime and she hadn't had breakfast yet… and it was cold.

She ate it anyway, pulling a strip off the edge and chewing thoughtfully, both Han and Tag Massa's words ringing round her head as she tried to decipher whether she was disappointed or relieved at the news. Han wanted to believe Luke was honourable because he and Luke had a history, but Massa… despite her official line, Leia had a feeling that privately, she felt pretty much the same - and there was no connection there that Leia knew of; no history. "I can tell you this much though, without any Intel - whatever remote chance we had of ever negotiating with him when he came to power is now effectively ruined. Whatever he was, we've _made_ him an enemy now."

Han glanced away, not willing to consider that right now, still euphoric at the unanticipated turn of events. Strange; he'd just finally begun to let the kid go , then here he was, back in the picture one more time. His grin turned into a slow frown as he considered the timescale; kid had been in the medicentre an awful long time. "No idea how bad he was injured?"

Leia frowned as she collapsed down onto the hard wire-frame chair beside him, "Not really. Bad, all things considered."

"But recoverable?" Han prompted.

Leia said nothing and Han glanced down at his food, no longer hungry.

"Look at it this way," Leia said in solace, unable to keep a touch of wry hostility from entering her voice, "He's Palpatine's Heir and he's in the Imperial Palace on Coruscant; he will, I promise you, be getting the best care the galaxy can offer."

.

.

.

"When will he wake again?" Palpatine demanded, sharp gaze turning to the uncomfortable Hallin.

"I'm not sure, Excellency. The side-effect of the painkillers he requires is drowsiness. I'm confident that…"

"Stop them." The Emperor ordered.

Hallin paused, uncertain how to continue but knowing he must. "The um… the painkillers are vital to…."

Palpatine turned just slightly, and it was all that was needed to make Hallin's voice trail off into silence, his resolve lost before that sulphurous stare. Still, the Sith clarified his wishes as he turned back to the boy, "As of now, he's to be given no more."

"It will slow his recovery."

It was a last-ditch attempt by the medic, Palpatine knew, and quite immaterial. He had made this decision days ago.

"Then he will have time to consider his betrayal. This is not something he should forget or easily dismiss. It is his final lesson and it has been a long time coming - and knowledge always comes at a price. I am not blind to what he has been doing, medic, the fine line he's been treading, and he cannot remain neutral. It is quite impossible in his position. There is no mid-ground, there are no misgivings. Insurrection is a crime. Rebellion is a crime. _Betrayal_ is a crime without equal. He must learn to destroy his enemies or they will destroy him. It is a hard lesson but it must be learned; one must surrender the past to own the future." Palpatine glanced momentarily to the medic, dismissive, "You are treating a patient- I am creating a Sith."

"The drugs are keeping him alive- suppressing infection and sepsis, preventing biochemical cascade and organ failure. They're managing hypermatabolism and aspiration pneumonia. We've only just begun to deal with complications presenting from TBI."

"The drugs which deal with life-threatening injuries are to be continued. All else - including painkillers in any form - will stop."

"What you are asking will cause… considerable… distress."

"That is the point." Palpatine dismissed blandly, gaze still on the boy.

Of course it would hurt him, but there was no greater teacher than pain. No greater reminder. And the boy was no stranger to this lesson. He didn't like to think so, Palpatine knew; didn't like to think such things influenced his thoughts and reactions, but they did, no matter how reluctantly. It was human nature. It was one of the most basic impulses in the galaxy, written into every cell in his body from the time that life first crawled from the seas- self-protection. Self preservation. And no matter how many times he dug his heels in and resisted, even his own outrageous stubbornness could not fight the mass of evolution.

Months of chastisement and indoctrination locked in that cell when he had first crossed Palpatine had made him obey - for a while. Six months, almost. Then the boy had finally pushed too far - pushed to see how far he could push, and lessons had to be re-taught, as they often did when such a relationship was new. His Jedi had woken once again in that same cell beneath the palace - _his_ cell - a prison built to hold a Jedi.

And again, eight months later, when he had challenged too brashly on some minor point. And again ten months after that, when he pushed the limits of Palpatine's patience.

There were smaller incidents in between of course, things which could be dealt with harshly but immediately without resorting to weeks of brutal imprisonment, caging and taming that wild will all over again. One must be ruthless in dealing with even small disputes or dissent- pitiless and unforgiving, regardless of who instigated them. It was not only a lesson but an example to be followed. Had he done so, the boy would not be injured now.

Proof of the value of this method lay in his Jedi's own actions. It was almost a year since he had last laid half-conscious on that cold white floor of the cell - _his_ cell - drugged to subdue and restrain him, but still awake enough to be aware of his own helplessness, resentment boiling up inside him as it always did, feeding the fires Palpatine had ignited,

He watched the boy now and remembered… remembered sensing the dread of his comprehension burning through the drugs, though he was too weak and too injured to move, to even turn away as Palpatine settled comfortably down beside him, using the long sleeve of his scarlet robe to gently wipe the blood from the boy's face as the guards had left the cell.

Palpatine remembered quite distinctly how dark the blood had been, even against the claret red of his robe; true red, like liquid rubies, his rich robe paling by comparison. Remembered being fascinated by its depth of colour for long seconds before tearing his eyes away and back to the flawless blue of the boy's eyes.

"It should not come to this. Not between us." he had said at last, regretful and impassioned in the same moment.

His Jedi turned his head just slightly, eyes heavy with drugs, aware of his Master's driving emotions, though he did not speak.

"You are mine, Jedi." Palpatine had said with total conviction. "You always were - you know that. Why do you fight what was preordained?"

"I am… not…"

"You are mine." Palpatine repeated with absolute certainty across his broken words, reaching out to wipe again at the open wound above his Jedi's eye, holding the cloth of his sleeve there until it blossomed beautifully through the fabric. "Perhaps I should tell you the past…"

"I don't…want.. your lies." the boy had whispered weakly, though Palpatine knew he didn't mean it, not really.

"My Master, you see, was a great Sith." he continued, as if Luke had not spoken at all, his voice kind and fatherly, as if telling a familiar tale to a young child. "A powerful Sith Master. He found me when I was very young, and he showed me the pre-eminence of the Force and told me that I could learn these things- if I went with him. Simply walked away from everything- my family, my world... my life. I walked away without hesitation, because I recognised greatness… and because I heard it call within myself."

Luke looked away, but Palpatine reached down to gently take the boy's chin and turn his face back, no admonishment in the gesture. "His name was Darth Plagueis, and he taught me well. Taught me everything I knew… but he didn't teach me everything he knew, I realised. Plagueis became obsessed with his own mortality, spent years studying Sith doctrines and holocrons to discover the secrets of renewing and prolonging life. But he believed immortality was a personal journey. He did not understand... you see immortality is also the continuation of one's lineage."

He wiped again at the gash which bled profusely over Luke's eye seeping a wide, viscous trail across his bruised skin and down hair and scalp to bloom into a rich burst of vibrant colour on the blank white floor, smiling benignly as he continued. "But what can one do in the face of natural selection? I thought… that I would always be disappointed. That nature had decreed that I be the last of my line. One cannot clone a force-sensitive without repercussions - the Force will not be bound by science - and why would I want anything less? Without the Force, the child would be nothing. But in his search for eternal life, Darth Plagueis discovered an ancient text… and with it the ability to _create_ existence. Truly create; the Force itself bringing forth life. My Master learned this dark art… and destroyed the texts, knowing that through this he could control me."

Palpatine leaned back, eyes raising in proud rmemberance, "At the height of our combined power we did this- _created_ life. But we did not _know_ that we had succeeded. I believed that we had failed - that my Master had failed… and so he ceased to be of further use to me."

Palpatine paused at that, remembering… "And then something miraculous happened. A chance meeting; a serendipitous moment - a child, conceived at the moment that the rites were performed, _had been born_… on the far side of the galaxy." He shook his head, voice distant, lost in reliving the memory.

"I had succeeded- I had simply not realise it… but a being created of the Force could not remain hidden forever - not from his creator - his power was simply too great. It shone like a beacon, it sounded through the Darkness like a note of perfect pitch, striking instinctive resonance. The Force _wanted_ us to find each other. So I found him, and he me… and the connection was instantaneous, the draw irresistible.. He was mine - created on _my_ command to fulfil _my_ aspirations. Mine alone."

The boy's attention began to falter now, made weak by drugs and injury, eyelids flickering. Still Palpatine continued speaking, reaching out to push back blood-matted hair from the wound, the gesture full of empty, indulgent compassion. "I thought I had everything that I wanted in this child - that all my ambitions could be fulfilled. He was an elemental being, raw power contained, exceeding my wildest hopes. _Everything_ was possible through him. When I knew that I owned him, all my far-reaching plans were instigated and for a while I became unstoppable; invulnerable- invincible. But then he was injured, badly - and the power that I had poured into his creation was lost. Not all, but enough. And, more importantly, he had no heir - my line was broken yet again."

Finally the boy's head dipped to the side. He caught it once, eyes flicking open momentarily, but he soon drifted again, the sound of his Master's even tones strangely hypnotic, soothing even, though Palpatine wondered whether the words still held any meaning, lost beneath the boy's exhausted body's need to repair. "My Master, in his final revenge, had not told me all that was needed to create life, it seemed. And so everything; all my aspirations and ambitions - my dynasty - was lost beyond retrieval. I was left only power… but power is never enough, one always wants more... and that which I truly desired had been placed far beyond retrieval."

He smiled indulgently, raking the back of his nail slowly up from the deep gash, drawing a line in scarlet blood up into the boy's long, wild hair as he combed curved, ridged nails through it, voice contented and quietly triumphant. "And then you appeared, and everything, _everything_ was within my grasp again. You are mine; that same resonance still sounds true. I _created_ your father; brought him into being. Therefore I created you. You were destined to come here - to serve. To continue my work. You are my immortality, child. You are my dynasty. My legacy. You are mine."

.

.

.

Everything changed - everything descended into pain and restless, fevered confusion. Luke woke briefly from time to time, driven more by sudden peaks in agony than by any real awareness. The drugs which had given relief had numbed mind and body alike, but now, in their absence, he was left with pain which lanced through him and twisted about him so intensely that all hope of concentrating around or through it had been burned away.

There had been no time, it seemed; no moment's grace to gather the Force about his hazy, paralysed thoughts as the effects of the powerful narcotics left his body, the grating pain already bone-deep before he tried to bring his drug-numbed mind to focus, leaving him too distracted, too injured to reach out as Master Yoda had taught him. He needed only a moment, a fleeting respite from the all-encompassing pain to gather his thoughts and try to understand what blocked his path, but it dug and grated and twisted like knives with every barbed intake of breath, the exhaustion of simply withstanding it crushing any hope of concentration. Too much- too much to process, to even react to.

Time broke into short, shattered clips of awareness punctuated by long periods of pain so intense that all he could do was lie still and breathe. Just that. To simply breathe against it was a triumph, every inpull of air lancing through cramped chest muscles and aching bones, requiring concentration so complete that all else paled and fell away, senses muted to insignificance by the need to deal with the intense agony carving through him.

He was occasionally aware of the presence of others in the room - Mara, Nathan, or just as often his father - but the idea of speaking, of even opening his eyes to acknowledge them, was so completely beyond him as to be inconceivable.

Time passed like this - how long he had no idea, but every moment burned through him like an eternity - so that when it finally began to subside even slightly, just enough for him to become aware of his father's presence in the room, he reached out for him like a lifeline.

"Help me…" it was all he could manage to utter past his injured throat, through dry mouth and split lips, but the man he had rejected so completely stepped forward without hesitation.

Vader moved to the head of the bed, his black-gloved hands reaching out to gently take the weight of his son's head, thumbs to his temples, "Calm, now." he uttered in deep, bass tones, the words so composed and pacific, reaching out to Luke's enervated awareness, soothing and settling, benignly guiding. "You need to find your focus… fall back into the Force - it is all around you. Just breathe- relax. Stop struggling. Let it guide you - let it heal you. You know how to do this. Reach within yourself - _remember_ that path, calm your mind and listen. Everything that you need is here, waiting. Sense it. Call it to you. Let it heal you." His tone was even and hypnotic, leading the Luke on, soothing and centering…

Vader had no idea if his son could still do this - the ability to heal was not of the Dark Side. It could sustain, could enable an individual to operate far beyond his injuries, but it _could not_ heal. That ability was long lost to Vader. Yes, he had maintained his son's condition on the fraught journey back to Coruscant, but it had been just that; the ability to sustain, to slow any further decline. Any capacity to restore or revive was beyond his reach, then as now. All that he could do was try to lead his son through the motions and hope that Luke was still capable of reaching out in this way, channelling the Force even to a small degree to gain some limited relief, though in truth he knew this was in vain - the boy was no longer a Jedi.

It hadn't failed to come to Vader's attention that the aspect of the Force which he always berated and dismissed for its weakness had the power to help his son when the Darkness Vader had so resolutely wrapped about himself for so long, so sure if its invulnerability, was of no value whatsoever.

Still, he sensed the boy calming now at his words, the bewildered twist of pain and turmoil which had gathered to a knot within him beginning to unravel just slightly. His shoulders slumped in response as he finally regained some contact, his breath slowing and regulating, head falling heavy against Vader's hands. Vader felt his own tight chest relax in response, aware that he had remained tense as a wire in the face of his son's pain, unable to help.

Unable to help… he reached out now and sensed that mental link with his son re-established and with it... that particular mindset, the willingness to merge without loss of self, to accept with grace, to surrender without submission into the Force.

Darkness never surrendered… so it was not this that the boy touched now.

He knew Luke had built his barriers, walls within walls within walls. Knew how much he was able to hide, even from the Emperor…

Vader reached out again to touch that sense and it slipped away like a half-imagined haze, diffuse and oblique, hidden completely from him now. But the memory of that momentary contact remained and he studied it again, searching to categorise it. It was not Light… nor was it Darkness- it was neither and both, defying any classification, giving Vader cause for deeper thought.

Palpatine believed him converted completely, as did Vader, even now… so then what was this?

.

.

.

Something… some distant awareness of voices and senses and disparate minds swirled about Luke, obscure and indistinct in his twisted perceptions. Voices murmured words he couldn't hear as shadow-senses closed in about him, though he remained in the void, neither truly aware nor completely unconscious, the scarlet haze of pain wrapped about him, cutting him off from reality.

A hand reached out to rest lightly against his chest, cold as the grave, and the finely-honed shock which burst through him lit old memories, dragging them to the fore in his fevered thoughts with absolute focus and staggering intensity…

…_Of that room - that cell - cold as the tomb, dark as pitch. And his Master, always pushing and provoking and punishing, of force-pikes and broken bones and lightening arcing through the gloom to sear skin and burn through flesh. So much that his bones felt hot within his skin and his muscles would cramp for hours afterwards, dragging him awake through drifting unconsciousness, blood and adrenaline in the back of his throat…._

Luke jolted awake, gasping a breath in, anticipating the sharp stab of the Force-lightening and bringing his arms up to protect himself. The motion sending a shock of pain searing up through his arm and across his chest, making him cry out.  
Someone grabbed at his arms, holding them down, the agony lancing up through his left arm and across his shoulders, their voice alarmed and stern and worried and demanding all at once. For long seconds he was so stunned, so shaken by the intensity of the pain that he didn't recognise it, couldn't work out the words, struggling against their hold... then Mara Jade called out his name again, telling him to stop, that it was okay, that he was safe…

Slowly, reality filtered in and he collapsed back in dazed silence, Mara releasing his arms, the pain from the sudden burst of movement rolling over him in waves, leaving him nauseous and weak, breath ragged, the blood draining from his head in a disorienting blur.

Silence hung heavy and expectant, the fog of personas within the Force settling slowly out into Palpatine, Vader, Mara and Hallin, and though he knew all eyes were on him he felt too weak, too drained to even pull words into a thought, let alone speak them out loud.

His Master's voice grated out, completely unmoved, his close presence looming, blurred both in Luke's vision and in the Force. "There was a bomb. You were injured. Can you remember this?"

Luke closed his eyes, made the slightest movement of acknowledgement with his head, even this lighting fireworks down his spine and across his chest. "Where?" It was barely a whisper and it cut down his throat like a blade, but he knew Palpatine would hear it and understand.

"You are on Coruscant. You were badly injured - the assassination attempt was almost successful."

There was the slightest hint of amusement in his Master's voice, mixed in with his outrage at having something which belonged to him damaged. No pity, no empathy; the only concern that his possession would be taken away. But then Luke expected no more. A word slowly percolated through the haze, making him frown. "Assassination?"

"They wanted _you_, my friend; you were the target." Palpatine's tone did not invite debate. "The bombs were not time-triggered, someone waited to activate them remotely. Waited for their target to arrive. They were too small and too few and badly placed to do any lasting damage to a Super Star Destroyer - they had a very different target."

"How many?" Luke whispered, making Palpatine frown. "How many…died?" he was faltering now, even this small exertion draining him.

Palpatine looked askance, clearly unsure why his Jedi would care, but Mara spoke up, her eyes on the Emperor. "Forty-seven dead; mostly troopers from the 701st. Another sixty-odd wounded. The count would have been much higher, but we were already on alert and the bays had begun to evacuate."

Luke sighed, disturbed; incensed, as the facts sank in. Forty-seven dead. Sixty wounded. For what? To get to one man.

His Master's voice cut through this thoughts. "We _will_ find out who did this."

"I want them." he whispered, putting all of his remaining strength into the breathless words so that his Master would remember, "Alive- I want them alive."

His Master set his head on one side, voice half-curiosity, half-challenge, "For what?"

Words were beyond him now, no energy left to even whisper, but he reached out through the Force to Palpatine, passing through that link all of his growing outrage and anger. His desire to deal with this _personally _- to look his attackers in the eye before he killed them, so that they would know that it was _he_ who did this. Himself, face to face- not hiding behind the anonymity of impersonal weapons which killed and maimed indiscriminately, but he and his enemy, face to face. Retribution.

Palpatine smiled indulgently- _this_ he understood. "I will give them to you, my friend." His quiet cackle pulled pale lips to a thin line as he watched his wounded, aggrieved Wolf's eyelids flutter closed, exhaustion and injury quickly overtaking that burst of dark emotion. "I will give you your revenge."

.

.

.

"There's probably something you should know, now that he seems to be more aware." Hallin said ominously as Mara stood by the high medical bed, studying Luke's sleeping face. She'd remained when everyone else had left, attentive as ever, and considering what he now suspected about she and Luke, Hallin felt it only fair that Mara should know.

She turned immediately, and Nathan rushed to reassure, "Don't worry, it's nothing terrible- just something that we may have to deal with in the coming weeks… and beyond."

"What kind of something?" Mara asked warily.

"Typically with this kind of condition resulting from deep coma following traumatic brain injury or hypovolemia, the patient may exhibit a range of resultant secondary effects collectively called postconcussion syndrome…"

"Basic please?" Mara prompted tersely, hearing Hallin drop into his professional medic mode. The medic paused a few seconds, searching for the right words.

"You may find him a little… different. Unpredictable perhaps. People recovering from comas following head injuries – brain trauma – will often exhibit new character traits, though they're generally temporary. They often complain of racing thoughts, they're unable to sleep, you may notice that they've lost some social function... interpersonal and social judgement may be impaired so they may act inappropriately or out of character. They may exhibit a tendency towards violent episodes, become more mercurial with inconsistent, often contradictory mood swings."

"Fantastic." Mara deadpanned, a thousand scenarios involving Luke and Palpatine coming horrendously to mind. "But this is temporary?"

"Probably."

"Probably isn't yes."

Hallin shrugged, unable to answer, "There may be some permanent changes, it's too early to say. There may be few or practically none of these symptoms; he may suffer no more than temporary memory loss and headaches. If he does evidence further symptoms, recovery of cognitive deficits is greatest in the first six months, but it may be total or minimal."

"Don't feel you have to commit to anything substantial, Hallin." Mara said sardonically.

"Postconcussion syndrome is notoriously unpredictable." Hallin defended, "The mind is a complex organ and personal consciousness and cognitive ability is subjective at best. There's no data as to how it may effect a Force-sensitive. If it reassures you any, his coma was mid-level and relatively short, and the speed with which he received treatment for hypervolaemia and hypoxia was favourable, plus there's been no indication of post-traumatic epilepsy golloeing surgery, therefore all indications point to a positive prognosis. In the meantime you should know that his short-term memory _will_ be affected. It's not obvious yet because he's not entirely coherent, but he presently has no ability to lay down new memories. It's perfectly normal- nothing to worry about. Remember he's still recovering, his brain simply doesn't have the resources to both repair injuries and create new synapses at present."

Mara frowned; "But he still remembers everything?"

"Chances are he's lost nothing from his past save perhaps the last few minutes or hours leading up to the explosion- he's just not going to recall from waking session to waking session for a short while. It's perfectly normal. Remember that the actual blow to the head isn't the problem; it's the resultant swelling, internal haemorrhaging and hypoxia – oxygen deficiency – which means that the brain suffers cross-the-board damage. It basically closed down for a while and in doing so may have lost certain parameters. He'll improve every day now but for the time being, a good amount of your talks with him will be spent going over the same few facts."

And they were, the same few facts over and over. It became something of a rote, Mara learning to recite all relevant points in a rush of information when he woke, Hallin far more patient; more willing to indulge.

She hadn't really noticed before how committed he was to Luke – how protective – but then Luke had never really needed it before, Mara supposed. She'd always scorned Hallin, believing him little more than an opportunistic hanger-on, but everything she'd seen in the last few weeks had put that into question; he'd helped Mara when he hadn't needed to, had remained always in the medicentre, attentive and dedicated. Everything about his actions, his casual, cordial manner and open, informal demeanour around Skywalker- and more importantly, Skywalker's comparable, comfortable reaction- all suggested a long-standing connection. As much as she hated to admit she'd had him wrong, it seemed the medic sincerely cared about Skywalker. They had after all, arrived in the Palace together and now had three years of shared chaos and confusion as they'd found their way; that was a lot of history – the kind of thing which built a genuine friendship.

And all she could think in the face of that realisation was one thing; at what point, she wondered, would Palpatine decide to use it against Luke?

.

.

.

Luke's eyes fluttered open and came to rest on Mara, his sight still blurry, but her shock of long gold-flecked auburn hair was unmistakable.

"Hey Red." He croaked, the words grating his raw throat.

"Hey black and blue." She beamed at the brief, crooked smile he flashed before he flinched as it pulled at the deep scar which sliced through both lips. She'd been about to launch into her usual burst of information, but he surprised her by coming back with a cognisant reply, more aware than usual.

"Suppose you think that's funny." he whispered gamely, eyes already beginning to close again.

The smile fell from Mara's face as, suddenly very serious, she admitted, "No- not in the slightest."

She reached out to push his hair from his face, but instead, on impulse, gently touched the deep wound on his lips, the continuation of the disturbing gash carved from above his eye down to his chin, left untreated by Hallin save for the long line of neat sutures closing it.

"Is this sore?" she asked, finger hovering above his lip.

"No," he said quietly, "Its split isn't it?" It was the understatement of the year… and quite suddenly Mara realised that he hadn't seen his reflection yet. Unable to touch his own face, he had no idea of the severity of his wounds there. Probably no-one had even mentioned them in the face of far greater injuries.

Moved in that moment in a way she couldn't decide, but very sure, she leaned over… and gently kissed him.

His lips were warm and soft, the heavy scar pressing rough against her lips as he leaned toward her, head turning just slightly. For long moments they remained like this, willingly lost in the moment, an unconditional expression of relief, of deliverance.

It felt so completely _right_ to Mara; left her wondering why his heartrate hadn't missed a beat on the monitor, because hers had surely skipped, still thumping against her ribs, a warm glow spreading to the pit of her stomach. When she finally pulled back he studied her for long seconds, both suspicious and at ease - and surprisingly self-possessed.

When he spoke, still no more than a hoarse whisper, there was doubtful, unassuming humour in his broken voice. "So.. is this something we generally do?"

She smiled, green eyes teasing, "You don't remember?"

He was already beginning to drift, exhaustion overtaking him so quickly still. "See that's just unfair." he murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

She shook her head at that, watching him drift asleep, knowing full well that when he woke again, this moment would be forgotten; lost to him the moment he slept.

"Yes." She whispered regretfully, "… yes it is."


	7. Chapter 7

Luke opened his eyes slowly, the world swimming before him, his vision still dark and hazy down his right side, forcing him to turn his head slightly to bring his Master into focus, even this small movement cutting deep across his collarbone, forcing him to freeze, unable to even breathe for long seconds. Time still condensed into short bursts of awareness, no real sense of any specific length between them, leaving him with the unsettling sense that people simply appeared and disappeared about him in the single blink of an eye.

His Master spoke, unheeding of Luke's disorientation. "I have news, my friend. My agent within the Rebellion's main base has sent the proof I have been waiting for - confirmation that your attack originated there."

Palpatine paused just slightly, almost unwilling to finally impart this damining information. It had been a long time coming and he had worked hard to achieve it, to force the Rebellion's hand whilst not betraying his own. "The assassination order came from the Rebel Alliance, dictated by their 'honourable' leaders, so full of their own pious, self-righteous morals - until it's no longer convenient. _They_ are your aggressors, my friend; those you fought beside, those you never once harassed or denounced. How quick they are to condemn you now... but didn't I always warn you of their treachery?"

He fell to silence, sharp yellow eyes locked on his Jedi's, searching for some reaction, for the explosion of fury which would have welled up inside of himself had he been given this news - for the continuation of his outrage just a few days earlier when the true motive behind the attack had come to light.  
Strangely, the boy only slumped, his head turning away, expression completely void of any emotion. Palpatine reached out subtly with the Force, but all he sensed was a momentary impression of a weight pressing in on the boy, deep and profound; disappointment not anger, loss rather than outrage. But acceptance; the final severance of old ties, even those which lay buried. Something Palpatine himself could never have induced - such a profound parting of the ways had to be incited by those his Jedi trusted.  
He was almost immediately pushed back, barriers raised and true emotions hidden, but he'd glimpsed the truth, and that was enough. Enough to bring the veiled ghost of a gratified smile to the old man's lips.

The grief washed over Luke in waves, yet he felt strangely quiet as he turned away, shutting down the emotions which he knew his Master was searching out, pulling back inside himself and listening to the sound of his own ragged breathing, hearing his heart beat slowly. If he could have stopped them, stilled them both beneath the weight of this tearing loss, then he would have done so without hesitation. Simply closed his eyes and slipped away...

Memories and moments came whirling to mind - those which had sustained him for so long; recollections of trust and fellowship which had held him grounded in the eye of this endless storm.

Had Leia been there, when they'd made this decision? Had Mon? The woman who'd shook his hand and told him that she was proud of his commitment- that they needed more like him. Had Rieekan, the man who'd promised him that there would always be a safe haven for him within the Alliance on the same day he'd become top of the Empire's Most Wanted list? Had Madine and Ackbar? Had Han?  
After a long time, Luke became aware that his Master was still speaking, still pontificating on some detail or indictment. He wanted to tell him to stop - that the battle had been won, that he understood this final betrayal, that he accepted its implications and consequences.

But all he could do was to lie there and watch those thin, bloodless lips move in self-righteous accusation and listen to the profound silence which existed between the beats of a wounded heart.

.

He woke again late at night, a familiar presence in the room scratching at the back of his mind. Vader stood back in the shadows, though he could hardly be missed, the hiss of his respirator loud in the silence despite the fact that what had once seemed harsh and jarring was now so familiar as to be… reassuring.

Luke knew, recalled through the haze of broken awareness that had punctuated long days whose number he had no count, remembered his father's presence in the room, his sense of anxiety - concern even. He didn't trust his father of course, aware that his concern could be nothing more than self-serving, but now, at low ebb, he hadn't the energy or the inclination to maintain their usual distance.

Perhaps Vader sensed this, because his words brought Luke's head around in their rare empathy. "Don't dwell too long on this. It was inevitable- greater forces were at play."

He knew that his father wanted to say more, that he wanted to say all that the Emperor had said. That he wanted to say _'I warned you. I told you. I knew and you wouldn't listen'_. If he could have, Luke would have wiped at his eyes, but his arms were still useless, and all he could do was to shake his head, sending a shock of pain across his chest and shoulders. Eventually he let out a bitter little laugh, finding his voice in his anger at himself.

"Go ahead and say it." He invited, the monotone invitation little more than a rasping whisper, his throat still too injured to do more.

Vader remained silent; there was nothing to say which he had not already said. He knew his son well enough by now to know that self-righteous reminders would gain him nothing, and in the absence of knowing what he _should_ say, he was learning to remain silent. They were quiet for a long time, Vader recognising that his son was falling deeper into the cynical, melancholy state that sometimes crippled him now, but having no idea of how to stop it. Finally he offered, "You were not at fault. They did not understand you - they could not."

"And you do?" There was the slightest of challenges edging Luke's voice, quiet as it was.

"No." Vader said without sarcasm, "Not at all."

Luke couldn't hold out against that, and laughed mirthlessly, the action grating against his burning throat. He looked away, then back thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh."

"I laugh." His father said, surprising Luke with the dry addition. "Just not out loud."

"At what?" Luke challenged, but there was humour in his rasping voice.

Vader remained silent, suddenly uncomfortable and Luke looked away, sensing this. Both were aware that they were charting new territory here, and neither was willing to step too far from the safety of a path already littered about with deep-rooted grievances and accusations.

Luke gazed at the ceiling for a long time, Vader studying his son. The severe injury which had punctured his throat and the scar which gouged a deep path down the right side of his face remained painfully obvious, as did the darkened bloom of deep red within his still-glassy right eye, though the lens had re-attached and the medics said he would not lose his sight.  
His son glanced at him momentarily and despite everything those blue eyes seemed so similar to Vader's own. It was a long time since he had cared to look at his own reflection, but Vader hadn't failed to realize how much the boy looked like him - the same eyes, the same hair, the same jawline. Lean and sinewy as Anakin had been in his youth, but compact and trim, very much like his mother. A mix of them both, of himself and…

What would she think, to see her son like this? Consideration of her grief allowed Vader to acknowledge a little of his own; to realise that the weight which had settled cold and hard, like a stone in his stomach from the moment he knew what had happened was… fear. Not for his plans or his intentions or his loss of potential gains. Not because of what the boy could achieve or the goals he could fulfil… but that he may lose his son. Just that.

Realization that he did not wish to lose the one thing in his life which held value to him. In the absence of his ability to say any of this out loud, he merely observed, "You are recovering- which is good."

Luke didn't bother to reply, knowing that his father had spoken simply to end the silence, an unstated prompt to Luke to do the same. Instead he remained lost in his own thoughts, torn by truth and regrets.

"They were my family." He whispered at last, the loss and disillusionment undisguised in his voice, "I trusted them absolutely - they trusted me." He fell into silent consideration for long seconds, and when he spoke again, his quiet voice was wistful and subdued, lost in the past. "I served as a bodyguard occasionally to Mon Mothma, if she was travelling in dangerous situations - and to Leia Organa - did you know that? Mon said that there were a dozen or so people she trusted enough to appoint to that position when she first asked me. I told her I was honoured. And Madine - Crix Madine only ever used the same ten pilots for Special Ops. The same team- never changed it. Said they were the ones he knew he could count on to get the job done. Leia…" He paused for a moment at speaking her name, then continued, the affection obvious, "Leia Organa told me she would always trust me. Always, no matter what. I once found a bottle of Alderaanian mead on a tapcafe on Ansion and took it back for her. Cost me a month's wages and I would have paid twice that to see her face when I gave it to her. We sat on the flight deck and drank it from plastic cups. She told me that she couldn't remember what it was like before I was there - that she couldn't imagine it without me." He trailed off into silent reverie, lost in the memories.

"They did what they had to, to control you. To keep you there." Vader tried to keep the accusation from his voice.

"No," Luke murmured without looking up, "I belonged."

"You belong here." his father stated, as sure as ever. "Your life is here."

Luke shook his head, "There's nothing for me here."

"That is by your own making." Vader rumbled, bringing his son's head about in open question.

Was this the breaking point, the deciding factor that the boy needed? He'd edged around his life here for so long, remaining resolutely uninvolved- perhaps now the choice had been made for him. Vader made a brief mental note to look a little more closely into the events which had led up to the assassination attempt, but didn't dwell on it now, aware of his son's eyes on him.

"This is your life." he repeated, "If you do not like it, then it is within your power to change it. Do so."

His son looked away, expression neutral, but Vader sensed his mind racing. He pushed forward, aware that the boy was listening as never before.

"Look at your life, your position. The opportunities available to you. Take them - make them your own. You stand in Palpatine's shadow out of choice. You _allow_ him control." Luke glanced up momentarily at that, a flash of uncertainty lighting his scarred face. But Vader felt no such doubt, no lack of confidence in the boy. "You've learned all that you can from him… before he was an advantage – now he is simply an obstruction."

Luke remained silent, blood-streaked eyes skipping over the room, lost in thought, "He's too powerful." he rasped at last, no longer noticing the pain in his throat.

"Because you _allow_ it. Because you will not use the power he has taught you to access. If you drew on that, if you tapped that potential…" Vader paused, knowing that if he pushed too hard the boy would automatically push back- he always had. But he could sense his son wavering now; on the very brink of commitment. "Take control." He urged, bass voice no more than a whisper.

His son remained silent for long seconds, then his eyes turned to his father, sharp and searching despite their appalling injury. "And if I did - where would that leave you?"

"Where I am now." Vader avoided, but the boy was not fooled, shaking his head in wary amusement.

"I know you better than that."

Vader didn't relent; this was the first time ever that the boy had discussed this openly, the first time he had examined the details. The first time he had considered the consequences. The first time he had considered Vader a part of it - as an ally, not an enemy.

"That is something which can be dealt with when the need arises." Vader avoided smoothly.

"Not good enough." Luke maintained, "I need clarification; without it, I can't move."

He stopped suddenly, as if he'd said too much and Vader knew the boy believed his exhaustion had made him slip even though he couldn't see exactly how. For long seconds he held silent, uncertain what Luke meant, searching for the error.

Knowing his father would fathom it eventually, Luke volunteered it, hoping to maintain some kind of control - or maybe he was just tired, and compounding error with error. "I've told you before, my objectives are not yours."

Realisation, when it came to Vader, was a revelation in every sense of the word - why Luke had hesitated this long, why he had shied back from confrontation, _allowed_ Palpatine control…  
If he removed the Emperor, Luke believed it would put him in direct contention with his father - and despite everything he said out loud, he didn't want that.

Was this what constrained him? Was his reluctance to be forced into conflict with his father so great that he had been willing to withstand Palpatine's restrictions and coercions and punishments for so long, rather than confront the power struggle that would be left by the Emperor's removal? Vader felt a burst of gratification at that - that he would have such control over the boy, that…

He instantly shied from his own reaction, horrified. He should be _proud_ that he could inspire such feelings in his son; such kinship. Realisation that he had almost lost his son had clarified for Vader just how much the boy had come to mean to him and yet now, when his son had finally admitted some connection, Vader saw only an opportunity for control; a way to use that bond to his own advantage.

It was hardly surprising that the boy was so reluctant to acknowledge it, even now. Luke was right; he did know Vader too well. His discomfort, both at his own reaction and his son's knowledge that it would be so, held Vader to an uneasy silence.

His son looked away, voice quiet, "So you see, the decision isn't mine at all…"

Vader looked up at that, "Apparently, I am not the only one capable of manipulations."

The barest hint of a smile lifted the corners of Luke's split lips, "Maybe you were right... I've learnt what I can from Palpatine- from any Master."

The words were carefully chosen, Vader knew; they were both acknowledgement of his persuasion and an offer of what would be made possible - _if_ Vader relinquished any perceived right to authority. He narrowed his eyes, amused, though it didn't sound in his voice, "Then you will consider what I have said?" The words were neither agreement nor a refusal of the boy's terms.

"Will you do likewise?" his son pushed.

"There is nothing to consider." Vader said, still unwilling to renounce.

"Then I must say the same." Luke replied, unwilling as ever to back down.

Vader held silent for a long time, but Luke didn't break his gaze. He was so close - _so close _to pushing the boy forward. How could he back away now? "You are a stubborn man." he accused without malice.

"I can't imagine where it comes from." his son replied, head dropping back against the pillow, eyes closing momentarily.

The door slid open, Hallin looking up from an automemo, a medical scanner in his hand, "Oh. I can come back…"

"No, come in Nathan. We were done." In truth, Luke was pleased for the interruption. He'd already made two mistakes because he was tired, and his father knew it- he would push for a third, and Luke didn't wish to oblige.

"We will speak again." Vader said obliquely, wishing to clarify that this discussion remained open, before turning and leaving without pause.

Luke collapsed back as his father left the darkened room, leaving Hallin to stare after him, uncertain. "About what?"

Much as he trusted the medic, three years in the Palace meant that Luke wasn't in the habit of giving out unnecessary information, even to him. Exposed allies couldn't let slip under duress information that they didn't know - he'd learned that from his Master too. "Nothing new." Luke said simply, offering no more. Lies had to be remembered and often ended up being compounded and his memory was still poor. And anyway, he felt no need to explain himself, even to Hallin.

"He's been here a great deal, while you were still unconscious." Hallin said neutrally, holding the scanner to Luke's chest, the readings appearing on his automemo.

Luke sighed, exhaustion beginning to drag him down again now that the burst of adrenaline-laced concentration needed to deal with his father was spent. "He's just protecting his investment."

"You still don't trust him?"

"No." Luke rasped, tired to the bone now. "But that's always been factored in, so it changes nothing."

He considered again his father's words. Despite working to his own agenda, Vader was right about one thing; Luke had tip-toed around the corners of his life for too long, caught between past and present loyalties. He should probably thank the Alliance for spelling out to him that it was time to move forward. Thank the Emperor for…  
It suddenly occurred to Luke to wonder whether this had all been another of his Master's manipulations, designed to finally clarify in the most explicit way possible where everyone's loyalties lay - and in doing so, to lock down Luke's own. If it was, then it had been a big gamble… but then, perhaps he had not expected so direct-a reaction.

"Thinking?" Hallin prompted into the silence,

"Wondering whether I see Palpatine's hand in this." Luke replied, still thoughtful.

"In what?" Hallin asked, eyes on his medical readouts.

"This." Luke lifted his shattered arm just slightly, to indicate his injuries.

Hallin frowned, using the stylus from his automemo to touch the back of Luke's left hand below the last tension bar, "Can you move your fingers yet?"

Luke drummed each of his fingers in quick succession on the bed, and Hallin didn't even bother to look up. "Without using the Force to augment." he added dryly, so completely familiar with the unscientific phenomena which he had once dismissed as completely impossible. Scientific proof and corroborative genetic verification was all very well, but one couldn't argue with what was in front of one's eyes.

Luke glanced down in silence at his hand for long seconds before his index finger twitched just slightly. Hallin stared, his face impassive.

"Should I be worried?" Luke prompted.

"I would imagine I'd be pretty worried if the Emperor was trying to assassinate me." Hallin replied vaguely, misunderstanding.

"I don't think it was that," Luke assured, allowing the misdirection to pass, whether it was accidental or not, "I think he just wanted to prompt a response - to shake things up, polarize the situation. What their reaction was, would be the single variable- the one thing over which he had no control."

Luke considered whether his Master actually knew about the carefully-selected information Luke had been passing to the Rebels for almost a year now under the guise of several different, unknown 'Rebel sympathisers'… then dismissed it as paranoia. As much as he loved his schemes, Palpatine would have dealt with such a massive breach of trust in far more direct terms. It would have provoked another of his 'lessons' taught in such a way that Luke would never forget. No- if he knew that, then Luke would have been in the cell below the Palace by now.

"That would seem to make it a rather large gamble." Hallin said, breaking Luke's train of thought.

"Depends what was in the pot." Luke replied, speaking in sabacc terms. "Sometimes a major gamble is worth it."

Hallin glanced up, doubtful. Luke almost shrugged then caught himself, still very much aware of the tension bars which stretched shattered collar bones straight. "There's a point in a sabacc hand where, if there's enough in the pot and you're already committed, based on the odds and the possible returns - and your knowledge of the players - it's statistically worth your while to take a gamble."

"We're not talking about sabacc." Hallin dismissed.

"Same theory." Luke said, "It wasn't even that much of a gamble; he knew the Rebellion would react if he forced their hand with a big enough gesture."

Luke could sense Hallin's doubt- but then, he didn't know Palpatine as Luke did.  
Long hours trapped in that cell beneath the Palace with only his Master's goading manipulations had cost him dearly, but if there was one thing he could pull from those painful memories it was this- he _knew_ Palpatine. Knew how that twisted, self-centred, self-serving mind worked. Yes, his Master knew him too, inside out, but as Palpatine was so fond of quoting, all knowledge came at a price, and Palpatine's knowledge of Luke - of how to manipulate and use him - had come at the cost of Luke's knowledge of Palpatine; of how he reacted, how he schemed. It wasn't at all beyond Palpatine to do this - to believe that he could control it, direct it to attain his desired result. "Aside from the minor complication of almost killing me, it worked perfectly- he achieved everything he wanted."

"Only if you let him." Hallin said, eliciting an unexpected dry, rasping laugh from his patient.

"Why is everybody saying that to me today?" Luke mused, then added quickly, to forestall Hallin's question. "I think I have to concede this particular game."

"What will you do?" Hallin asked, knowing he'd get no specific answer; that Luke wasn't in the habit of handing information out unless he thought it was necessary. In this, he was very much like the Emperor.

"Palpatine's looking for a response- _expecting_ one." Luke said thoughtfully, "I'd hate to disappoint."

.

.

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**CHAPTER EIGHT**

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.

Mara stopped at the door to Skywalker's room in the medi-center, almost bumping into Hallin as he left. "How's he doing today?"

"Well, he must be getting better because he's driving me insane." The slight medic said, smiling tightly.

"What's he doing now?"

She knew Skywalker had basically nagged Hallin into fitting his new right hand before the medic wanted to, but she could understand that even if Hallin couldn't; she too had found the sight of the chrome locking bar extending from the bone of the disfigured stump deeply unsettling - and it wasn't even _her_ bone it was set into. And anyway, he'd developed the disquieting habit of using the blunt tip to scratch at the healing scabs on his face. Plus, with Skywalker's left arm still immobile, without his right hand he could do nothing, which Mara had to admit would have left her feeling pretty vulnerable in a place where vulnerability was a dangerous thing. Admittedly, he still had little control of the new hand, but that would come, and that much sooner for having been fitted already.

"Well now he's got it into his head that he wants to leave the medi-center." Hallin said, as if Luke were asking the outrageous.

"To go where?"

"Back to his own apartments. Which is out of the question and he knows it."

Skywalker's hoarse voice grated weakly from the doorway in reply, "_He_ is still awake and can hear everything you're saying."

There was indulgent humour in his voice, but that unmovable, authoritative tone was beginning to creep back in, his stubborn streak returning with his gradual recovery. Hallin remained unimpressed- the advantage of long familiarity. "Well then _The Heir _knows that there is no absolutely no way that he can return to his apartments yet."

.

Mara catwalked into the Master Bedroom of Skywalker's apartments, trying not to wake him.

It was the third day he had been back, Hallin having caved completely, though he'd complained bitterly about the necessity of bringing all his medical equipment from the North Tower to the West Tower where the massive Perlemian Apartments sprawled over one complete level of the Tower, taking every opportunity on the rare moments that Skywalker was actually awake in the last two days to state that the reason for his exhaustion was that he wasn't ready for this kind of stress yet.  
So much so that Skywalker had finally asserted that the reason he'd wanted to return was that he could now legitimately throw Hallin out of his room if the medic nagged too much, which he was on the verge of doing right now.

But Skywalker _was_ recovering, more alert when he was awake, his memory repairing, his blurred vision returning, the white of his injured eye clearing though the iris had sustained scarring, which had resulted in the disconcerting effect of discoloring a large area of the pale, sky blue iris, rendering it almost black. Even knowing this, Mara often found she would need several seconds when looking at him to lock down that uneasy feeling that something had changed - not the obvious scar which sliced a long, twisted path down the right side of his face and through his lips, but something more subtle, more fundamental.

Still, a return to his own quarters had seen a marked improvement, even to Mara's eyes; he'd slept through the night again and well into the next morning, Mara keeping the photosensitive transparisteel of the tall bank of windows dialled down to halfway.  
Now the balcony doors were pushed open, the warm summer breeze filtering in to tug at Mara's hair as she sat, her back to the room, finally getting a chance to settle and catch up on some Intel reports. Engrossed in her reading, she almost jumped from her chair when there was a loud thud behind her and a flash of surprise which blasted out so strongly through the Force that even she felt it. She twisted round to see Skywalker huddled awkwardly on the floor by the bed, more or less upright. Panicking, she swung up, keying the medial emergency comm on the table then dashing forward to him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." he reassured, though he didn't get up, his pinned arm held close, cradled by the other.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Sitting on the floor apparently." he deadpanned, voice still low and hoarse.

Mara reached him and suddenly stopped dead, arms outstretched, having no idea how to help him up. He was wearing what he had always worn to sleep in; a pair of tie-waisted sleeping trousers, his torso bare, and now suddenly, when she had to touch him, it seemed way too little.

Which was stupid because she'd seen him dressed like this hundreds of times when she'd come into his apartments first thing in the morning, or when he'd wandered around in this and a loose, open dressing gown before breakfast, now completely comfortable with the amount of people who seemed to find it necessary to wander his apartments at any hour of the day.

And when he trained in the Practice Halls six floors down, the huge ebony-floored room boasting a long, floor-to-ceiling glass wall which made it incredibly hot in summer despite the climate controls, he would generally strip off the tank vest he wore in an effort to cool down. She'd never looked twice…well, that wasn't actually true, but she'd never felt _this _awkward or embarrassed before.

"Are you gonna help me up, or are you just here to watch?" he prompted.

"What happened?" Mara finally managed, reaching out, uncertain.

"My leg went from under me when I put my weight on it, that's all."

"You dislocated your hip and your ankle." Mara reminded, bringing his eyes sharply up, though his head didn't move, neck still stiff and painful.

"Somebody could have told _me_ that."

"We did- repeatedly." Mara said dryly, taking Skywalker's right arm well above the surgery line and trying to lift.

He yelped as his broken collarbone took the strain. Mara let go instantly, crouching down. It occurred to her only now that, among greater pains and injuries, the dislocations may well have been ignored by Skywalker, and his memory from the first few weeks was still patchy. "I'm sure Hallin must have told you recently."

"I listen to about a third of what Hallin says." Luke said, leaning away when Mara tried to reach out to his pinned arm, "Not a chance." he uttered dryly.

"A third?" Mara grinned, "That's way more than me."

She moved round his back and, after a moment's hesitation, slipped her arms under his, hands about his chest, deeply aware of the warmth of his skin.

"Wait! Surgery scar." he reminded as she closed her hands about the long, still-angry scar which ran down his chest from his broken collarbones to below his ribs.

Mara pulled her hands back to rest against his sides, trying not to press in, knowing how long broken ribs took to heal. Still, when she tightened her grip, he pulled in another sharp intake of breath. She paused, "What?"

"Those are broken."

She slid her hands down over smooth skin, "How about here?"

"Ow."

"Well…"

"I think we can just safely assume that everything hurts." he croaked.

"Well then maybe you shouldn't have tried to get up." Mara said, still crouched behind him.

"Thanks." Skywalker deadpanned huskily, "I really needed to hear that. It's very helpful."

"If you just…" Mara felt the smile coming to her lips and tried unsuccessfully to silence the laugh, her ribs rocking at the attempt.

"I'm glad one of us finds this amusing." Skywalker rasped, but Mara could hear the humour in his hoarse voice.

"Sorry- it's not funny." she agreed still trying to stifle the laugh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the back of his shoulder in attempt to stop rocking.

"Ow."

"What!?"

"You're laughing on my broken shoulder." he croaked.

For some reason, that was the final straw and Mara could hold back no longer though she tried valiantly, so that the laugh came out as a breathless snicker, her eyes beginning to water at the effort of keeping it in. Luke chose that moment to try to sit up against her weight, but Mara was laughing too much, all strength gone, and though she tried to push back, she simply toppled backwards beneath his greater weight, pulling Skywalker with her.

He froze a few seconds against the pain then leaned back to rest his head against her ribs for a moment, his gruff voice cracking, his own laughter breaking through, "Well you're useless in a crisis, Red."

"This isn't a crisis, this is a fiasco." she corrected blithely.

Hands still about his chest, she felt it rock in laughter then his muscles tensed, "_Don't_ make me laugh. I hurt enough as it is."

Mara considered a moment as they both paused, breathless, trying to regain the strength to try again, "Is this a bad time to say you probably should have stayed in the medi-bay?"

"If you _ever_ tell Hallin about this…"

The threat was wasted as Hallin came bursting into the room, having answered Mara's emergency comm. He took one shocked look at the two of them on the floor, Mara's arms wrapped around Luke, his head resting against her, the pair of them grinning inanely, and tried to back out, eyes to the floor. "Oh I'm so sorry - please excuse me. I didn't…"

"Hallin!" Skywalker's voice broke as he tried to shout, but it was loud enough, "Get back in here."

His disembodied voice came politely from the other side of the door, "… now?"

.

.

.

"What now?" Luke glanced up from the suspiciously-brief morning's despatches, which he was reading on an automemo whilst walking slowly on a treadmill in the small private gym in his apartments, annoyed more at his own lack of stamina than at the incoming intrusion. Even a few minutes' exercise still triggered near-exhaustion, leaving him feeling incredibly vulnerable here in the Emperor's Palace. Because the truth was that if he couldn't protect himself from Palpatine, then no-one else had the ability to do it for him.

He was already beginning to push himself trying to regain his fitness. The heavy, cumbersome weight of the alloy cage around his arm and across his collarbone had been removed, leaving only single tension bars in their place, set slightly clear of his skin, and light, minimal, polymer forms. Still awkward and troublesome, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as the heavy cage of the external fixator. The moment the bars and casts were removed from his arm he intended to begin lightsaber drills again, but for now even this short walk had left him drained and trembling.

He was restless at being trapped in the Palace- he'd never liked being here, had always seen it as a gilded cage and a dangerous one at that, so close to his Master. And whilst he remained, there was no reliably undetectable way to contact agents he had spent the last year and a half placing in the field for just the kind of information he wanted right now.  
He needed to know exactly what had happened in the lead-up and the aftermath of the assassination attempt. He particularly needed to know why _Argot_, his own spy in the Rebel camp, had been excluded; whether Argot's cover had been compromised. But until he was on his Destroyer and away from the capital he remained isolated from all incoming information save that which his Master chose to pass on. He didn't believe Palpatine would lie to him - he was far too skilful at manipulating the truth to ever need to resort to lies - but Luke knew that the Emperor would certainly be controlling what information was reaching him, and how. Omissions were just as misleading as lies if carefully handled, and this morning's discussion with Hallin had brought home to him one more time not just how far Palpatine was prepared to go in assuring his own goals, but how precarious Luke's position here really was- how expendable.

The medic had been thoughtful since he'd arrived that morning, entering Luke's private quarters with a politely-sketched bow, clearly searching for a way to lead into whatever he wished to say, though it had still taken Luke a surprising amount of coaxing to finally pull the truth out of him.

"I was… uncertain whether you would survive immediately following the explosion." Hallin had allowed at last, alluding to the day of the assassination attempt, "You had extensive internal injuries and we were having difficulties stabilising you. When the Emperor commed, that was his first question- would you live?"

Luke shrugged, unoffended, "If I ever don't I'd advise you not to go back to the Palace- it'd probably be a one-way journey."

Hallin nodded gravely, made to speak, then fell silent. Luke remained quiet, waiting for his friend to find his words, which eventually he did. "If you died then I was ordered by Palpatine to recover certain samples immediately, then place your body in medical stasis."

Luke nodded, unsurprised, "DNA, though I'm sure he already has samples; I need to deal with that at some point."

"I think… he was looking for more. I was ordered to take pure DNA samples yes, but… I think he was looking to gain a new generation rather than an exact copy; what little is still medically available to me regarding cloning Force-sensitive individuals indicates it's highly unpredictable, unstable even. I think he was looking to… create a child rather than a clone."

Luke was silent for a long time, the gravity of this sinking in. Slowly he nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose, deathly tired of this constant scheming. He glanced up to Nathan, "Did you take the samples?"

"No- it was only in the event of your death."

"Ever?" Luke asked sternly but openly, leaving Nathan uncomfortable beneath that intense stare; was he using his 'Force' to back up his perceptions? If so he had no need; Nathan would never lie to him.

"No, Commander. But that doesn't mean they aren't in existence, taken at other times by other medics - every time you're released from the cells, you're never returned straight to your quarters, and when you are returned, your wounds have already been treated. And remember the Emperor also asked me to gather DNA though we know that such samples already exist, stored at separate locations."

"We have no-one reliable at any of them who could follow this up?"

"No; they're very small facilities with few staff, and those who are there are extremely loyal to the Emperor. We've tried unsuccessfully before to infiltrate them. And those are the ones we know about - they could be stored at any number of locations under any designation."

"I need to know if they have samples because if they do we need to deal with this now." Luke paused, glancing meaningfully back to Hallin, "If you're ever asked again, you're to provide a false sample - and you're to make sure that no-one else can collect a real one." He hesitated, uncertain how to explain the next, but hoping that Hallin was familiar enough with the Force by now, "If I die… Master Yoda taught me a… practice - my body should simply disappear. But if it doesn't... you need to destroy my body, completely. You understand? As soon as possible."

Hallin hesitated a long time, eyes down, and Luke sensed his unease. When he finally looked to Luke and spoke it was doubtfully, "I'm not sure I …"

"Well then ask Wez to do it." Luke cut in, surprised at the medic's squeamish streak; knowing Wez would have no such qualms. "Or Admiral Joss if Wez isn't there, anyone I'd trust. But _be_ there- make sure it's done."

Hallin nodded resolutely, though Luke could sense his discomfort.

"This is important Nathan." he emphasized, "… to me as much as anything. I won't give him that opportunity." He had watched as his father slowly realised that in his son, he was also seeing his replacement; his comprehension that Palpatine would cast Vader aside in an instant- would willingly initiate his death for just the _chance_ of controlling the next generation. Even in his darkest hour, when he had hated his father with a vengeance for bringing him here, Luke had balked at how the Emperor could so easily dismiss and discard that which he had created - callously use one who had served him for so long.  
Had experienced firsthand how once the Sith Master had fixed his avaricious sights on something he would ruthlessly exploit any means to ensure his own desires.

Despite his father's twisted morals, Luke had sensed in recent talks some shade of genuine regret; remorse at his decision to bring his own son here, exposing him to Palpatine's self-serving ambitions and pitiless wrath. To Luke, the thought that another generation may become caught up in this soul-destroying struggle was abhorrent. All in the service of his Master's greater goal, his precious Sith Dynasty - did he seriously believe Luke would give him that? That satisfaction, that control over another life?  
But apparently, he didn't need Luke's consent - and why was he even surprised at that?

The morning had slipped by, lost in Luke's appalled disbelief that even Palpatine would stoop to such a thing, resentment crystallising into adamant resolve that it wouldn't be so. Whatever it took, any means, any price, he wouldn't be Palpatine's puppet. He wouldn't be used.

And if the only way to regain control of his life was to relinquish the past, then he could do that now. Without hesitation; without regret.

Was that what his Master had wanted? Surely he knew that anything said to Hallin would eventually come back to Luke? Was this too just a manipulation, one more coaxing coercion toward Darkness? If so then yes; he had won this game; Luke finally found himself willing to cut himself free of his past. But the victory would be a hollow one - if it took Luke's last breath he'd ensure that.

Eventually Luke had headed for the gym in his apartments, much to Hallin's obvious dismay, resorting to exercise in an effort to get his mind off the medic's revelation, grateful for the distraction from guessing and double-guessing every play in his Master's part but frustrated by how little it took to reduce still-weak muscles to exhaustion.  
When he sensed Wez Reece heading meaningfully down the corridor, his thoughts boiling with ominous uncertainty, Luke turned expectantly to the door, bringing Hallin's gaze about too. Moments later Reece entered, nervous anticipation apparent in his face and his sense as he glanced momentarily at the medic then turned to Skywalker.

"I've just received word from Chancellor Cordo that the Emperor will dine here tonight." Reece said, no further explanation for his tension necessary.

Luke ground his jaw at the mention of the Emperor, reigning back his anger, keeping his voice casual, "Did Cordo say why?" Unless he had a specific reason, Luke seldom used titles save for his Master and his father, and no-one was in a position to correct him.

"No, nothing. Only that the Emperor will dine here tonight."

Luke stepped over to a chair, Hallin half-rising, clearly resisting the urge to step forward in case Luke fell, his fragility still obvious, though he tried hard to hide it.

"Nothing more?" Luke prompted as he reached out for the chair to steady himself before he sat down.

"Only that I was ordered to arrange the meal in your private dining room rather than the State Dining Room." Reece said, turning uneasily away as Luke stared at him. Though his injured right eye had healed, the damage had rendered the once pale blue iris discoloured across almost half its area, now almost as dark as the pupil itself, the contrast unsettling. So much so that even Reece found it disconcerting at times; unnerving to look into The Heir's strangely mismatched eyes.

"Really?" Luke considered a moment more, aware that Reece was avoiding eye contact though not sure why. Then allowed the slightest of smiles to turn up the edges of his scarred lips. "I think I need to speak to Darrick." he said, of his Wardrobe master.

Reece glanced back, raising his eyebrows in question.

"I'm looking for a shirt." Luke replied enigmatically, "A very specific shirt - I haven't worn it in… three years, but Darrick will know which it is."

Reece was fascinated now, "Any particular reason?"

The Heir's uncanny gaze turned meaningfully to the door in a pointed indication that someone else was about to enter, though he didn't speak or gesture, everyone aware of the fact that surveillance was still active in this part of Luke's apartment. Mara Jade catwalked into the room, precluding any further discussion, though Luke was no longer so inexperienced as to abruptly stop speaking, bringing the conversation to a more natural conclusion.

"I would imagine my dinner guest's trying to make a statement - I'd hate him to think that I'd missed it." He turned just slightly, "Good morning, Red."

.

.

Mara stayed in the Commander's quarters for the rest of the day, aware of the tense brittleness about him today; the sense of insular brooding. It didn't bother her particularly; as with Palpatine, that outward detachment simply masked a racing mind.

One of only three or four people whom he allowed this close, Mara was well aware of both the rareness and the duality of her position. She remained both Skywalker's bodyguard-come-Aide and, in the final analysis, Palpatine's eyes and ears close to Luke; his 'watcher', as her master liked to refer to his many spies. Reece, whom Skywalker seemed to trust as much as Mara, was his second observer; her 'corroborator'- proof that Mara's own facts were accurate… It never failed to fascinate her that Skywalker allowed them both so close, since he had to know what they both were.

Recruited by Saté Pestage, Reece was, as her master expressed it, possessed of a 'quiet mind', which apparrently bought him sufficient trust to remain. Why she was allowed the same, Mara didn't know. This duality in her status was becoming increasingly… uncomfortable with the passage of time, but Palpatine had made it patently clear that if he had any doubts whatsoever, he would simply remove her from Skywalker's retinue entirely. It was this knowledge which kept Mara from looking too closely at her own skewed ethics, aware on some level that it would be a rocky road leading only to trouble.

She knew after all that Skywalker was well aware of her reason for being there, yet despite this he never seemed particularly inclined judge her. He never had - it was one of the things which had fascinated her; drew her to him. If anything, he seemed rather more concerned with _why_ it was her than the fact that she was there at all, and if he had his suspicions then he wasn't about to mention them out loud - one of the things which infuriated her about him. But then again, she was hardly in a position to judge him for keeping secrets, given her position.

Luke did just that - remained quiet and introvert - for the best part of the day, lost in thought. He still wore only his drawstring sleep-trousers and a long linen dressing-gown, left loose in the heat of the day. He hadn't bothered to dress more than a few times yet and disliked fastening the dressing-gown which snagged on the long metal tension bars still protruding from the polymer forms on his immobilised left arm and the bare skin across his collar bones.

Now he sat at the table in his private drawing room, gazing blankly at the dust motes which drifted in the shaft of sunlight in the stuffy, airless room, unthinkingly turning a long, dark splinter of plassteel over and over in his hand - his version of practicing the fine motor-coordination which Hallin had advised for his newly-fitted prosthetic - obviously playing some plan or scenario over and over in his head, looking for flaws in logic or judgement.

Hallin had given Skywalker the rough, twisted shard of metal several days earlier, Luke turning it over in his hand, "What's this?"

"I though you might like it." Hallin had said cryptically of the splinter, finger-length and diameter and set in a curling twist, the metal chemically discoloured by heat.

"What is it?" Luke prompted.

"That's the piece that nearly killed you." the slender medic said casually. "I took it out of your neck in surgery - it's the reason you couldn't speak for a while. It had pierced your windpipe side to side. Somebody somewhere is watching over you because the curl of the metal made it twist around your jugular as it entered but I had to do an emergency tracheotomy on the hangar floor to enable you to breathe past it. You were choking on your own blood."

Luke turned the wicked splinter of shrapnel over in his hand, "So naturally you kept it."

"Actually I felt I did a pretty impressive reconstruction of your throat in the resultant surgery so I kept it to show you. Thought you might appreciate my talents a little more." That dry, confident mix of pride and vanity laced as ever with just enough self-depreciation to make it engaging.

"Well it's nice to know you had your priorities straight." Luke croaked, amused.

"I also remember reading somewhere once that back in the days when solid projectiles were used in guns, there was a saying - that there was a bullet somewhere with your name on it. It's not quite a bullet, but that one unquestionably had your name on it. I thought you might like to keep it - just to prevent it making its way back into the public domain to somehow make another attempt at fulfilling its purpose." Hallin held Skywalker's mismatched eyes for a fraction too long at that, then turned away, suddenly embarrassed at the sentimentality.

Luke smiled amiably, "That's what I have you for Hallin." he dismissed easily.

"If I'd have been two minutes later onboard the Peerless, it would have made no difference." Hallin maintained, all business now, his voice holding that touch of self-righteous scorn which only a medic could ever get away with. "Remember that next time you're off gallivanting in your precious I-TIE."

"You'll always arrive at the very last minute to patch me up- you just like the drama."

"No, I like sitting on the terrace with a tall drink and nothing better to do than watch the galaxy turn." Hallin corrected. "I do _not_ like patching you up at regular intervals and nursing my shredded nerves whilst I wait for your next emergency." He glanced meaningfully at the long twist of plassteel, "Next time you're about to do something foolish, look at that piece of shrapnel and remember that fact."

.

By late afternoon, Luke had wandered out onto the wide balcony overlooking the Monolith's roof gardens and the sprawling metropolis beyond - the first time he had stepped outside since his injuries - and was leaning against the ornately-carved terrazzo stone balustrade, gazing out to the city.

Mara wandered casually out behind him, scowling in the bright light, the sun lowering on the horizon as tall, closely-packed buildings cast stretching shadows over the metropolis. He still had nowhere near his strength back Mara knew, but he was getting better every day now. She'd even caught him making a few experimental right-handed test-swings of his lightsaber hilt. He was, she could tell, itching to get back into practice.

"You shouldn't be out on the balcony." she admonished at last, eyes scanning the distant high-rise towers. "It's an open invitation for a sniper with a range-rifle to take a shot."

He seemed more amused than anything, "Mara, I just survived a four-click explosion at point-blank range - how likely do you think it is that one laser shot is gonna take me down?"

"Stranger things have happened."

"Yeah, well that's not _nearly_ strange enough for my life." He dismissed easily without turning round.

She glanced at him, unconvinced. He was hardly at peak fitness, though she wasn't about to mention that aloud.

"I'm fine." He said, well aware of what she was thinking, choosing not to mention that the breeze was making his dressing-gown, light as it was, snatch painfully at the long metal tension bars across his collar bones - he wouldn't miss _them_ when they were gone.

Mara stood watching him for a few seconds, his linen dressing-gown fluttering in the warm summer breeze, his long, dark blond hair blown into disarray…  
He glanced sideways at her momentarily, making her aware that she had stared too long, so she quickly looked away, following his gaze before turning and lifting herself up to sit on the wide stone balustrade, so confident in her own sense of balance that she remained oblivious to the lethal drop behind her. If it bothered Skywalker at all, then he hid it well.

Mara glanced back toward him just for a moment, "If I had a credit for every time that I found you looking out over this damn city…"

He grinned, still staring out over the densely-packed urban sprawl of affluent, luxurious high-rise buildings, the wealthiest and most prestigious on Coruscant - a view of the Imperial Palace doubled the value of a property here; he couldn't imagine why. "Then maybe you could pay me back half of the credit you owe me from playing sabacc."

Mara smiled, flicking her golden-red hair from her face in the warm breeze, "I'm just waiting until it's worth my while to offer you double or quits."

His own smile faltered, a brief shadow of doubt flickering across his face, gone in an instant, "See, that's exactly the game I'm contemplating right now too." he murmured quietly.

Mara glanced sideways at him, knowing he was thinking about the Emperor's imminent arrival. His eyes were locked onto the twisted piece of shrapnel that Hallin had given him as he turned it over and over in his hand.

"I'd think very carefully before I crossed him." she advised, keeping her tone light so that Luke would know she meant nothing by it other than to offer advice.

"I'm not thinking of crossing him - not at all." Luke corrected, closing his fist about the wicked shard of plassteel. "Just… upping the stakes."

Mara frowned, "To what?"

Skywalker set his head on one side but offered her nothing more, lapsing into silent thought once again, eyes roving the distant city, the huge buildings bathed in a carmine glow as dusk fell. Mara sighed, looking down as she kicked her heels against the balustrade, legs swinging. "You know, sometimes you're worse than Palpatine with your secrets and your scheming."

He only grinned, unoffended, "I'd be a fool to tell you and you know it." he murmured quietly, though there was neither malice nor accusation in his voice.

Still, Mara felt a pang of guilt which kept her eyes to the ground, irresolute morals and deep-seated loyalties holding her to an uneasy silence.

.

.

Luke walked through to his dressing room to dress for dinner and the shirt that he had requested was waiting, freshly laundered and pressed, on his dressing stand. Ever-organised, Darrick had known exactly the shirt that Luke required and brought it from storage.

It was absolute black- a colour he seldom wore. A close-fitted, stand-collared dress shirt of smooth, refined cortal linen with tiny, hand-woven vinesilk knots forming multiple small buttons down the centre front, the fine braided loops which fastened them incorporated into a subtle, intricately-topstitched pattern, black-on black. He left them open partway, the fitted style of the shirt pulling against the tension bars set into broken bones, so now the meticulously stitched high collar hung casually loose, the fine fabric cool against his skin, perfectly fitted, handmade to the highest quality.

This was the shirt that he had worn the very first night he had woken here - the first time that he had faced the Emperor. He'd felt deeply, uncomfortably out of place in it then, awkward and self-conscious surrounded by this casual, all-pervasive opulence. Now he thought nothing of it at all; like everything here, it existed simply to serve a purpose and clarify intent, subtle messages conveyed even in this.

The elaborate shirt was not to his taste, having been chosen by Palpatine probably before his arrival, but then that was the point. The Emperor had not dined in the private dining room of Luke's quarters since those first twelve weeks, when he had visited every single night, Luke escorted by guards to the same room at the same time, the table laid nightly for a dinner which neither ever ate.

Now, in coming here and commanding dinner be served in that same room, Palpatine was looking to make a statement - a return to that moment; that _opportunity_.  
This was, Luke knew, a carefully considered reminder of what had been, of how much had changed since then. More than that, it was the chance at that moment again - for Luke to remake that decision from a better informed, less naïve standpoint. His Master was offering a clean slate and Luke was willing to indulge him - that much, at least, had definitely changed.

But for every point that had changed over the last three years, another had remained the same. Because Luke still brought his own agendas to the table - he still had his own will and his own goals - he had simply learned how to conceal them; learned to play the game.

Which was exactly what he intended to do tonight.

Palpatine was looking for a response, a clarification of his precious Jedi's viewpoint in consideration of what had happened. He had gone to great lengths to prompt, to _induce_ this change - Luke now believed absolutely that Palpatine had instigated this though he wasn't so foolish as to try looking for proof, which would only alert Palpatine to his realization. It was pointless, since intentional or not, the end result remained the same. In this particular manipulation, his Master had been successful.  
Because it had completely clarified Luke's position, isolated and unsupported as it was on all sides. Made it painfully obvious that Luke had no-one, _no-one_ to rely on but himself.

This one fact was about to become the driving force behind all his actions and objectives. He'd left himself vulnerable for too long, torn between conflicting principles and loyalties- Palpatine had been right to point that out to him. Well now he had a new allegiance - the one he should have adopted long ago.

Himself. _His_ plans. _His_ goals.

Yes, Palpatine had sought a reaction, and Luke intended to oblige. For _his own_ ends.

.

.

.

**CHAPTER**** NINE**

.

.

Luke waited patiently to be invited into the massive, ebony-panelled dining room, standing before the tall bank of windows in the drawing room beyond, watching the day settle from the sky, city lights casting an orange glow into inky blackness.

When the heavy double-doors were opened and he entered, it was to find his Master standing before the imposing bulk of the massive stone fireplace, exactly as he had that first night, a fire set within it despite the warmth of the evening. The bank of high glass doors onto the balcony were all open to counter the heat of the flames, something which would never have been allowed when he had first been brought here - would in fact have been impossible, the doors having been replaced only when the rooms' occupant was no longer a flight risk. At the time a series of inches-thick, tensile-wire-embedded transparisteel military-grade viewports, cabled into massive girders about the windows, had been hidden within the body of reinforced walls. A prison to hold a Jedi, as his Master had said at the time. Luke had still breached them, a single Force-induced blow taking out both the windows and most of the surrounding wall, so well had they been anchored. But he'd done it.

Had it been the Light Side or Darkness which afforded him that strength? He didn't remember anymore, couldn't recall at what point he'd begun to falter, though he remembered with pin-sharp clarity the moment of his downfall. His 'revelation', as his Master often referred to it, though Luke wasn't sure why - they both knew what it was.

The Emperor turned slowly, his long cloak rustling against the polished marble of the floor, the harsh, flickering light of the fire playing across his wizened, haggard features. The first time he had seen them, Luke had been appalled at their severity - now, they were more familiar to him than his own. He seldom looked in a mirror any more; didn't care for what he saw.

Luke stepped painfully down into a kneeling bow, injuries still hindering him, and the Emperor immediately gestured for him to stand, voice laden with carefully-measured sentiment. "Rise- rise, my friend."

Palpatine walked to the table and sat, smiling in empty indulgence, watching as his Jedi followed, sitting only when his Master had, aware of how much had changed in the boy since they were last at this table.

Servants entered and whisked in silent efficiency about them, uncovering dishes and filling tall, etched-glass goblets. Skywalker waited respectfully until the Emperor had taken the first mouthful before eating himself, the action neither pointed nor reluctant but quite composed; at ease with the protocol. Palpatine did not eat further, but then nor did his advocate - neither man had come here to eat. Instead he settled back, watching his feral Jedi, remembering…

He had not given a single step of his arduous conversion, had fought Palpatine every meeting, every word, every moment. Nothing had been surrendered - every victory had been dragged blow by blow from that stubborn, recalcitrant, gloriously obstinate will.

It had been a long path from capture to control to commitment. Not like his father; Anakin's desire to be with and to protect his wide-eyed, naïve little Senator had in the final analysis been, if not actually positive then at least well-meaning, all be it easily twisted. But Palpatine had needed more to hold Anakin- had needed stronger, darker emotions - and thanks to Obi-Wan's spectacular betrayal he had found them, cementing Vader's resolve in a way that Palpatine could never have engineered, igniting negative emotions which held a power and a resonance to scar far deeper than even Mustafar's burning flames.

Obedience; deferral to Palpatine's will was one thing, and it would have held Vader for a while, as it had his son... but in mind and body, not in soul.

Betrayal and assault - a personal attack by those he had trusted - _that_ bought Skywalker's soul, just as it had his father's.

Oh, it was an incomparable, glorious thing to see the boy like this - to see him willingly discard those last tattered shreds of weakness with which the last of the Jedi had tried to tie him to pointless, restrictive restraints. He was beyond them all now - except his Master. Because Palpatine knew what made him tick- he had, after all, set it all in motion. Had taken the Jedi and made the Sith. Before today, there had always been something; some ghost of a memory of the past which the boy had clung to, believing it pure and untainted, holding it up as some perfect ideal.

And they had destroyed it... not Palpatine, but _them_. The very people the boy had admired and revered had sullied and corrupted it.

His Dark Jedi glanced up, the movement still uneasy, and those strange, sharp, wonderfully mismatched his eyes caught Palpatine's own. He was still injured and bitter and angry, and he wanted someone to blame…

And Palpatine would give him someone - would _make_ it personal.

"I have a name for you, my friend." the Emperor said at last with casual nonchalance, "Two in fact. Mon Mothma signed the warrant commanding your assassination herself, and the Imperial traitor Crix Madine countersigned and executed it- it was he who originally brought the idea to the attention of the Rebellion's Chief of Staff."

Skywalker's eyes narrowed in consideration, the cool, contained outrage at hearing those names blasting out through the Force like a wavefront, Palpatine basking in its power.

"They alone?" His Jedi placed his fork to the side of the plate, the meal forgotten, uncanny eyes narrowing. "There are no other names - no-one else was involved?"

"No-one else. I have read the communiqués between the task force and Madine's office, all encrypted. No-one else knew but Madine and Mothma."

Would he want the names of those who planted the bombs too? That would be unfortunate - firstly because Palpatine wanted to keep his Jedi's focus, his anger, completely concentrated. And secondly, however unlikely, it may come to light that Palpatine had known about the two Rebel infiltration units who had been working on the Peerless, and allowed them continued access.

They were long dead now of course - dead men told no tales and in truth, Palpatine had not expected the assassination attempt to be a fraction as close to successful as it was - someone had to take the brunt of his own wrath.  
But it was far better for Palpatine to remain completely removed from this. There were to be no ambiguities. Skywalker had taken this final step forward and as far as he was aware, he had done so of his own free will, his own decision, without any influence from his Master. And Palpatine intended for it to stay that way.

"How do you know you have them all- Madine could have been sending the same messages to several Chiefs of Staff?"

He could so easily have implicated other, closer allies, Palpatine knew... but all in good time. "No. My agent is in a position to monitor all incoming and outgoing comms. The only communications mentioning the task force went between Madine and Mon Mothma."

"He's sure of that?"

"Very sure. Leemarit has total access. He's completely trusted- has been for many years."

Skywalker was silent, nodding slowly as he considered the facts, fists balled one inside the other before his scarred face as he leaned on the spotless linen tablecloth, the white of the polymer form and the steel of the bars which held his shattered arm together just visible at his unfastened cuff.

"Well now isn't that interesting…" he murmured at last, almost to himself.

Suddenly aware of his Master's scrutiny, Skywalker looked up, guarded and wary, and Palpatine smiled a contented grin into those wonderful unmatched ice-blue eyes.

"How far you've come, my friend." Palpatine murmured at last, benevolent and contented, "It was a difficult path you walked, but it has only made you stronger. From ignorance to enlightenment - from day to night….." He set his head to one side, ochre eyes fixed on the subject of his musings, and the boy gazed back unfazed.  
Would he do as Palpatine hoped? Would he take that final step - cut that cord; hunt down those he had once venerated.

Because the truth was that even now, after three long years, Palpatine was never _quite_ sure, that knife-edge volatility as wild and feral as ever. Would he ever truly tame it - in truth, did he even want to? "Will you howl in the Darkness…my Wild Wolf?"

Luke tilted his head indulgently, for the first time genuinely accepting of Palpatine's epithet, willing to give his Master whatever he wished - as long as those wishes coincided with his own intent.

He half-smiled, unaware of the ruthless menace in his own scarred features in that moment. "Give me the hunt and I'll make sure I'm heard."


	8. Chapter 8

The lush, ornately opulent surroundings of the huge Main Audience Chamber were silent and empty in the small hours of the morning, the room dim, its vast clusters of jewel-bright, hand-blown light-globes muted to reflect only the slightest luminosity onto the rich gold of the distant, gracefully arched ceiling, its subtle radiance reflecting down to cast diffuse shadows into the velvet gloom far below.

On the high dais, the ornate, gilded Sunburst Throne was set on a pale disc of rare polished stone, inlaid with a motif in rust-red and indigo blue. It had been taken from the Council Chamber of the old Jedi Temple, and it never ceased to delight Palpatine that the throne from which he ruled his Empire was set on a floor which he would once have been forbidden to stand upon.

The throne itself, a relic from centuries past plundered from its secure hiding place in the vaults of the Jedi Temple, boasted a massive disc at its back hammered from precious metal in the image of a sun surrounded by flares, the lowest flames touching the floor, the highest beyond head-height, the fluted sunbursts and the hammered sun-face caching the smallest rays of light and refracting them about the throne and its occupant.

Its true role long lost to history, the throne had always been a venerated Jedi artefact, its existence hidden, its portentious truth concealed. Because the ancient throne carried with it a hidden prophesy- if one knew specifically where to look. One which both threatened destruction and promised salvation. A new era, a greater empathy; connection beyond all known limits, referred to in both Sith prophesies of Mastery and Jedi prophesies of balance  
Hidden within the intricately-tooled surface, in an unknown, archaic text upon an ancient throne were a series of inscriptions, scribed in tiny, stretched letters so distorted as to be near indecipherable within the massively complex sunburst, their origins, like that of the throne itself, lost in the mists of time. And each of these fragments quoted a citation, all of them combined providing one of the greatest prophesies known;

'_S__un of __S__uns'_

It stated obscurely, the inscription repeating about the sunburst, the heiroglyphics so distorted as to form little more than a decorative pattern.

Scholars had argued over its exact meaning for centuries, meticulously interpreting and retranslating the text many times in an effort to bring clarity to confusion, no other example of its type existing anywhere. But scattered as it was, the prophesy had always defied definition, the minutae endlessly discussed and disproved, many versions and interpretations existing.

What they had needed, it seemed, was a key. Ironic then, that at the time the key came into existence, the Jedi were all but gone - that by the time this key first saw the throne, they had dwindled to just one survivor, and he hidden in the wilds, a forgotten hermit.

Yes, the vaunted Sunburst Throne had, considering its credentials, seemed the natural choice when Palpatine had created his Throne Room, the finalisation of the massive behemoth of his ornate Imperial Palace completed almost ten years after he had cemented his reign. All that he had felt the need to add was a heavy, sumptuously carved footrest, engraved with images of his far-reaching Empire, the allegory hardly subtle.

Now he sat alone, his Empire beneath his feet, lost in thought. The room was silent and still, Court long-since dismissed, though Palpatine had remained here, in his seat of power. Even twenty-four years after he had taken control, he still gloried in being here. Now more than ever, because if he held Skywalker - commanded his loyalty - then everything was possible.

No more Jedi, no more prophesies or portent.

Now, finally, he held the key to the prophesy. He had known it for two years now; since he had followed that distant, whispered twist in the Force to his Throne Room to find the boy there, drawn back into the shadows, staring hypnotized at the throne; the Seat of Prophesy. Unaware of his Master's close presence, he'd stood, transfixed, as moments ticked into minutes and minutes dragged unmarked. On impulse, Palpatine had invited the boy to read the inscription, knowing that there was no way that he could even know of its existence, let alone of how to decipher it.

And the boy had read it. Just like that. As if it were the most natural thing in the world - which perhaps to him it was. The key to the prophesy.

Palpatine narrowed yellow-flecked eyes, contemplating his meeting with Skywalker, aware of the fundamental shift in attitude and commitment evidenced in his actions and intent tonight, immensely pleased with the outcome of his gamble. Because it had been a gamble - one which had gathered pace at an unexpected rate, moving from a minor contrivance to a major campaign without any further interference from its instigator. Palpatine had publicly recognised Skywalker as Heir in a ploy to draw him further into his new position and life and so finally separate him from the Rebellion to which he still held some sense of allegiance, all be it reluctant.

The end result had spiralled beyond all expectations.

His entire demeanour had changed- had _been changed_ by this experience, as if some final deeply-rooted barrier that had hindered and held him for so long had fallen away and he had stepped free; raw potential realised.

The Sith that Palpatine had seen contained behind those ice-blue eyes the very first time they had met had finally come to the fore. Self-assured and incisive, wilfully independent, the volatile edge which had always plagued Vader was tempered in his son with a cool, calculating quality which afforded perspective - sometimes too much so, Palpatine felt. There was far more going on behind that detached, dispassionate facade than the boy was willing to admit, that much was obvious.

It would make him harder to control of course, but that was all part of the game.

He'd once wondered whether he would ever bring this wild thing to heel, whether he would ever truly control it. Even now, some tiny part of Palpatine questioned whether he was training a Sith apprentice…or creating a Master. That had never been a concern with his father, who had lost so much of his connection at Obi-Wan's hand and had always felt in some way beholden to Palpatine, having known him since childhood. But his son was different; he had no such allegiance, and while Palpatine had gone to great lengths to clarify to Skywalker that his own abilities were greater when the boy had first arrived, they both knew now that this was no longer the case- that they were at the very least equally gifted.

Oh, Skywalker held a healthy respect for his Master - for his power and his position and his ruthless will - but more and more as his confidence increased, the fact was that if he truly wanted to do something, the boy would never let caution sway his resolve. He was too headstrong and too spirited and too stubborn to ever do that.

Yet he still deferred to his Master's will in the end - would hold absolutely firm for so long then finally, at some private impasse, would concede. And to date, Palpatine had never quite managed to isolate what that was... because it wasn't threat of force. That was simply a punishment that he knew he would have to endure when he had gone too far. It never actually stopped him from his next insubordination, it simply made him choose them with care.

So it was something else which hindered, some greater threat which held him in check- and Palpatine needed to know what that was. Needed that power, that ultimate threat and control in his own hands, because without it he never truly knew whether his Wolf was merely waiting for its moment to strike.

Lost in his musings, Palpatine felt the vision tingle up his spine, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck and freezing the air in his lungs as he fell willingly back into its all-encompassing power-

... ... ...  
... ... ... ... ...

_He saw again the wolf in the night, the feral creature which had haunted his visions for two long decades.  
__It whispered through the darkness, wild and capricious- in a flurry of shadows it was gone and he stared at the empty stillness, waiting…_

_He turned, uncertain, the silence profound._

_Knelt before him in mute stillness was his feral Jedi, eyes turned down in submissive defeat, the dark heavy cloak of dense, black fur draped about him, absorbing all light._

_The wolf in the night…  
__Pull the leash too tight and he will bite - why did Palpatine know that so absolutely?_

_His Jedi stood, the confining sable cloak he wore slipping from his shoulders as he wordlessly held out his hand and once again, Palpatine's eyes were drawn inexorably down to the lightsaber there, smeared scarlet red, the colour of anger and passion and betrayal…  
__Vader's lightsaber - Palpatine wondered again if the boy would ultimately turn on his father._

Take it_.  
__His Jedi said, though his lips did not move._

_Palpatine looked again to the lightsaber, perfect scarlet streams seeping over the inactive hilt, running in ruby rivulets, dripping in dark drops from his Jedi's fingers to pool on the floor at Palpatine's feet, soaking a stain into the trailing hem of his cloak..._

_Something tugged at Palpatine's mind as never before, making his heart skip a beat in trepidation - in…fear.  
__His Wolf remained silent and impassive but something… something had changed in his eyes…_

Take it…or it will kill you.  
_Palpatine looked up at this - never before had this been part of the vision._

"Vader?"  
_His wolf said nothing, merely held out the blood-wet saber, the pool of scarlet beneath it spreading out unevenly, fed by a trailing, glutinous trickle of blood which still oozed unevenly down the metal hilt.  
__Liquid life, rich and viscous.  
__Liquid death, weeping ruby tears._

_Death…The lightsaber was not activated, but he could hear the bass hum of that non-existent blade, the hiss of superheated light._

_Death…_

... ... ... ... ...  
... ... ...

Reality ripped through the vision, tearing away contact and leaving Palpatine to a still, solitary silence, unsettled and isolated in the bleak solitude of the huge, empty room.

.

.

.

Reece entered the dark drawing room, his charge stood quietly before the tall bank of windows, gazing out into the night. "It went as planned, my Lord?"

Luke shrugged without turning, "As much as these things ever can."

"But the Emperor is satisfied?" Reece pushed.

"For now." Luke said simply.

"Then we should proceed?"

Luke paused a long time in consideration, some part of him still unwilling to commit to a course of action which, once begun, would be difficult to escape or derail. But he'd delayed and procrastinated for too long now, and look what it had gained him. The galaxy had moved on and he'd been left floundering and vulnerable, and paid the price.

Palpatine had spent a great deal of time and effort tieing Luke's hands, and now Luke would have to invest much the same to extricate himself. And at present, there were very few people he trusted enough to depend on in this. Reece was one of them, as was Hallin. Mara was most definitely not; likewise his father.

As for the Alliance… he had hoped that he could open a dialogue with them and avoid direct conflict but that too seemed out of the question now. Still, the chances of their agreeing to his terms had always been remote… becoming more so with every passing year. What he needed was a change in their leadership, but that had always remained beyond his control - until now. Now was the moment that he could move forward beneath the cover of vengeance and retribution.  
It was the perfect alibi because he genuinely wanted it, and that would be all that his Master would sense. And those little pangs of guilt which had whispered at the corners of his mind for so long were finally falling to silence, struck dumb by the reality of his betrayal.

How could he feel guilty for stopping someone who was trying to destroy him? It was simply self-defence. Survival of the fittest, laws of the wild. He'd run with the pack long enough now to understand that the only way to stop others snapping at his heels was to turn on them.

He smiled; his Master would be proud of him. But before the Sith congratulated himself too much for creating his precious '_wolf'_, he should realise the nature of the beast-

Palpatine had wanted commitment - well now he had it. He had his wolf. And the one driving ambition at the heart of every wolf… was to lead the pack.

"Sir?" Reece prompted gently, bringing Luke's thoughts back to the moment.

In truth, he'd already begun the campaign, having ordered Reece to contact his Bothan infiltrator and tell him to be watching The Heirs' apartments in the West Tower today. By now, the images of himself stood out on the Perlemian Apartment's wide balcony should be well on their way to the Rebellion.

"I'll contact Argot - say that the snare is set, and that we need reports of any changes in routine. You should contact Admiral Joss on an official comm and tell him to take the Peerless, the Dauntless and the Fury on a wide sweep of The Colonies by my command. Then contact him again on a secure channel and tell him to release the Specials from the 701st on their own recognisance when they reach Onderon- they're to be given the White Code. They'll start making their way to Bothan Space immediately. I want to know the moment they reach it. Contact General Reiss…"

"I'm sorry Sir- General Reiss has been reassigned to the Rim Fleet." Reece interrupted, of the commander of Luke's Core Armies- and a reliable ally.

Luke frowned, mismatched eyes narrowing, "By whom?"

"By the Emperor's command. General Veers has replaced him as head of the Core Fleet Armies - though I understand that he petitioned for this himself."

Luke turned away, frustrated, the memory of visiting his Master months earlier and seeing Veers leaving after a private audience with the Emperor coming immediately to mind. "He's an agent."

"Palpatine's?" Reece frowned, "I don't have him on my lists."

"Well then put him on. And let me know when Reiss manages to contact you on a secure channel from the Executor. I doubt we'll get anything useful from him since my father will be watching him like a hawk, but he may be useful in the future. When he makes contact, establish a secure frequency then tell him not to do so again- we'll leave him dormant for a while, until things cool down."

"And Veers?" Reece prompted.

"Tell Admiral Joss that he's an agent. He's to have no contact with the 701st." Luke said of his own squadron, which he protected absolutely from outside influence. "If he queries Joss on this, tell him to let Veers know it's by my command and direct Veers to me."

As his personal Command The Heir's Own Regiment - the 701st - maintained a visible presence onboard the Peerless as a recognised detachment, but in truth everything from squad numbers to assignments to whereabouts was carefully concealed, no more than half of the squadron being onboard the Peerless at any given time, the rest scattered in small independent covert units. There were numbers and names duly reported to Palpatine's Statistic and Intel branch on Coruscant of course. Some of them were even correct - or near enough to get past scrutiny.

It had taken Luke two years to build them up from a small, standard regiment assigned to his personal command as the 501st had been assigned to his father, to the independent, loyal, crack unit it was now. To be promoted into the 701st was the ultimate recognition in the Core Fleet, every being there recruited by Luke's own hand in recognition of exemplary conduct and consequently to date every single one was trustworthy. They had slowly been disconnected from the regular units to become a completely separate entity and while Luke was pretty sure that Palpatine's secretive Intel unit had a reasonable idea of numbers and allegiance, he also knew they had no knowledge of where the units were or what they were doing ata ny given time, and he wasn't about to let Veers change that.

Palpatine could of course revoke Luke's command of the 701st at any time, but Luke had played a discreet, delicate, calculated game and been careful to make no outward show of dissent, and he knew that his Master liked there to be no public display of mistrust between himself and his Heir, so to terminate his command of the 701st would be politically detrimental. Plus of course, he had to give his Wolf some sense of independence and autonomy… and in the final analysis, they both knew that the truth was that the unit was now so entrenched and loyal that if Palpatine gave the directive to rescind his command, Luke would simply order the majority of the committed, dedicated 701st to go covert, thus creating a stealth ex-military unit of unknown numbers and whereabouts with allegiance only to the Heir.  
Necessity overcame many principles here, and over time, Luke had found that despite his early misgivings, disliking political subterfuge and artifice didn't mean that he was beyond it, nor it beyond him. He had spent his entire life enduring harsh environments and it was in his nature to fight- to survive... whether it be the deep deserts of Tatooine or the diplomatic jungle of Coruscant.

"Any orders for General Veers at this time?" Reece asked.

"Standard Fleet Manoeuvres." Luke said, then added, "I'll speak to him when the Peerless breaks orbit. Personally."

"Do you think he… has potential?"

"I very much doubt it." Luke said, "But I want to know why Palpatine removed Reiss and gave me Veers. Either he knows Reiss had split loyalties or he simply wanted another spy in my camp, which seems unlikely given that Veers' arrival is so obviously linked with the Emperor. I'm assuming Veers knows though, and I'm more likely to be able to pull it from his thoughts than from Palpatine's." He considered a moment, then added, "And I need an agent - an independent infiltration specialist who could get into the Rebellion quickly and with reasonable anonymity - preferably someone who's already had previous contact. They don't need to last too long undiscovered. See if Karrde knows anyone… tell him they need to be expendable. And tell him I need three smuggler-modified, armed bulk freighters with… name a major transport company on Bothawuii?"

Reece paused, thrown sideways by the unexpected question, "Um… Tionn Kallat? Munil?" he recalled off the top of his head.

"They need spotless ID's as either of those company's transports. I'll give him dates when I next see him."

Reece raised his eyebrows, "May I ask what we'll be smuggling in them?"

"You, me and the 701st." Luke said cryptically, offering no more at this point. He sighed, weary of these endless games he was forced into, exhausted from the long day and frustrated by Veers' untimely arrival. "That's all for tonight Wez. Contact Admiral Joss in the morning. And wake me at seven, please - I may as well start getting back into some kind of routine. I'll go to the Practice Halls in the morning."

Reece raised his eyebrows, "And you will be practicing how, if I may ask, Sir?"

"Carefully." Luke replied dryly, turning away to indicate that the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.

Reece however, was not so easily put off, "I believe that Hallin recommended that you wait until the bars and pins were removed before commencing lightsaber practice?" He reminded politely.

"They'll be removed shortly." Luke said simply.

Reece remained still for long seconds, staring at The Heir's back, but he knew from long experience that further argument would be pointless, and he could understand The Heir's decision to push his scheduled recovery. He had disobeyed the Emperor many times, but this was one step further than he'd ever gone before and if Palpatine found out then there could be no reasonable rationalization to explain away the obviously premeditated act of insubordination.

The only thing which would buy him immunity from Palpatine's wrath would be success. That alone might just enable The Heir to hide his true intent within the results… and in doing so advance his own objectives.

And if he failed and Palpatine found out… Then he could afford no weaknesses, because Palpatine would take him to pieces.

.

.

.

Mara slowed with a frown on her face as she approached Skywalker's apartments, realisation slowly percolating through her still-waking thoughts that there were only two Red Guard at the doorway, which meant that Skywalker probably wasn't there.

She wandered down the main hallway in the vast apartment and found only Reece in Skywalker's Day-Office, glancing up as she reached the door. Though they were both under the Emperor's covert command, neither theoretically knew about the other's true duties but Mara was pretty sure that Reece was too smart not to know the truth, which made his wary enmity and mock-polite distance all the more confusing.

"Good morning Commander. Can I help you?"

"Where's Skywalker?" Mara asked, eliciting a very icy reply.

"_The Heir_ is in the Practice Halls at present." Reece corrected cuttingly.

Mara ignored the barb, "Doing what?"

Reece raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"You're not seriously telling me you let him go there with a lightsaber in his condition?"

"I was hardly about to take it from him, Commander." Reece replied sarcastically.

"Does Hallin know?"

"Yes. His medic has stated that if The Heir is - his words, not mine - 'fool enough to try practicing with a lightsaber' then Hallin will be awaiting a comm to go to the Practice Halls and pick up the pieces shortly." Reece replied dryly.

Mara was already turning away, heading out of the apartment. She'd reached the wide basalt stairwell before she slowed slightly, considering… there was enough time to make a quick detour and pick up something from her own apartments…

.

The two Red Guard stepped smartly aside as she opened the double-doors to the vast Practice Hall, the heat of the glass-walled room rolling out over her although it was still early. Skywalker was more or less in the centre of the huge space, the pure white of the fitted tank-vest and pants which he always practiced in so bright in the morning sun that he seemed to glow against the absolute black of the polished ebony floor.

Squinting against the low morning light, Mara set forward, Skywalker half-turning in easy acknowledgement, lightsaber in his right hand, his left arm still held immobile by the polymer casts and the metal bars which glinted disturbingly in the morning sun.

He seemed strangely at ease and off-guard in that moment, as he often did during saber practice, as if everything else was put away for the time necessary to completely dedicate himself to this passion. Whenever he was in the Palace he fell back on countless hours alone in the Practice Hall, as he had when he was first being taught by the Emperor. It was, Mara knew, both his method of remaining detached from Court and so sane in these cut-throat, paranoid surroundings, and a genuine compulsion bordering on obsession. But then that was forgivable - given the company he kept, chances were one day it would save his life.

He'd glanced up, his hair tousled, face breaking into a warm, unpretentious grin which Mara couldn't help but return. He looked so… relaxed. No wariness, no suspicion, no degrees of detachment. It was very…appealing.

"Practice?" she kicked herself for stating the glaringly obvious, but he didn't chide her for it, simply nodding.

"Trying." he admitted, swinging the saber casually in a one-handed infinity-loop to either side of his body with his good arm then ending it by twisting the blade up behind his arm as he lifted the arm out straight to his side, the tip of the live blade remaining parallel, stopping a fraction before it hit his arm and the back of his head, making Mara wince slightly though he seemed completely relaxed at the manoeuvre.

"You know, I distinctly remember speaking to Hallin and he said you shouldn't be practicing with a lightsaber yet."

"I thought you never listened to Hallin." Luke said easily.

"I didn't say that," Mara countered gamely, "I said I listened to him less than you."

"I'll give you that one." he allowed, smiling as he saluted with the blade, lifting it neatly before his face, head bowing slightly. He took two fast steps back, obviously clearing sufficient space to swing the lightsaber.

"You're very gracious." Mara deadpanned, though she couldn't help but allow a slight smile to twitch at the corners of her own lips as she stepped forward to maintain the space before them.

Undaunted, he took another two steps back - and Mara took another two steps forward. He glanced up, the deep scar on his face wrinkling as he furrowed his forehead, "Are we dancing now?"

Mara let the sarcasm slide, "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question."

"I thought I gave you one." he countered lightly.

"I mean the question about Hallin saying you're not ready fort his kind of high-stress exercise yet."

"So do I."

Mara frowned, "And when did you do that?"

"When I backed up so I wouldn't hit you during my practice." he said levelly.

"See, that's not an answer, that's just ignoring the question."

He set his head to one side, tone indulgent, "If you're splitting hairs, I'd like to state for the record that you didn't really ask me a question- it was more of a statement."

He stepped back again, his smile pulling at the heavy scar on his face and reaching those sky-blue eyes - always a rarity, though Mara had seen it a surprising amount in the last week. She was still trying to decide whether she was pleased or suspicious. Either way, she was charmed by this appealing new twist to Skywalker's character. Hallin had warned of mood swings and temperament changes following the coma; if this was the result, she could certainly live with it.

He stepped back one last time, "And you're still in my way."

Mara frowned, not yet defeated; if she couldn't make him stop, then she could at least try to limit how much he did-

"We should duel." she said, holding out her hand, the simple, utilitarian lightsaber which Palpatine had given her many years ago in her grip, little more than a brushed steel tube with button controls- she often suspected that her master resented giving her, a non-Jedi, a lightsaber.

Petite and fine-boned, at this close distance her slim frame brought her not much higher than Luke's shoulder, though she wasn't daunted by the thought of a duel. She didn't have his strength, but she had a trained, athletic body, was nimble and agile, and had been taught from an early age how to duel. Admittedly he'd effortlessly trounced her in their one short spar, but she'd been practicing since then.

Her offer actually made him laugh out loud, his Rim-System accent suddenly coming to the fore as he dropped the lightsaber to his side and deactivated the bright ruby blade,. "Yeah, because you're so gracious in defeat."

"Maybe I'd beat you." she teased, taken by this unguarded attitude.

He left just enough of a pause to let her know how unlikely he thought that was, that perfectly-modulated Coruscanti accent completely restored. "No."

"I don't know," Mara ribbed easily, "You have a broken arm, your shoulders don't work and your hip and ankle were dislocated- I think I have a pretty fair chance this time."

"No, you don't."

Mara raised her eyebrows, "Am I that bad…or are you that good?"

He shrugged, ignoring the compliment but confident in his abilities, "A little bit of both."

"Maybe you should give me a few pointers… I'll _try_ not to lose my rag this time."

"I think the first one is, don't lose your rag." he said dryly, "Come back when you can do that."

"I think there may be stones and glass houses involved in that comment somewhere." She countered easily.

"See?" he replied, though she could still hear the humour in his voice, "You've not even activated your saber yet."

Mara shrugged, accepting defeat, so was surprised when he offered, "Perhaps another time."

He backed away but she spoke out again, unwilling somehow to let the conversation end when he seemed in such an easy, charming mood, instead glancing down at the lightsaber in his hand, "May I see it?"

It was probably an unbelievable breach in etiquette, but she was genuinely curious. He'd worn and used the saber for three years now, and she'd never really seen it close up. He looked up, amused, his fingers tightening just slightly on the hilt of his sabre.

"May I see yours?" he held out his open hand pointedly, striking, mismatched eyes full of humour.

Smiling, Mara placed her lightsaber solidly in his left hand, rattling against the hard shell of the polymer brace which encapsulated it, though she didn't let go. At the same time, she took hold of the hilt of his saber.  
He closed his hand and for a moment held onto both of them, as did she, each of them pulling just slightly.

"I see our whole relationship to date condensed into this moment," he observed, genuine humour in his voice.

No ploy, no suspicion, just honest, straightforward amusement . She couldn't remember when she had ever caught him in such a good mood. Such an… appealing mood. Maybe it was the high of returning to his precious saber practice; the feeling that he was actually doing something- on his way to recovery. Whatever.

Now, she could only smile, something which seemed to come very easily to both of them this morning, "Very funny. Let go."

He did so, as did she, and Mara found herself holding the hilt of his saber, studying it closely. A lightsaber was an intensely personal object, and even though the shell of this saber had been gifted to him, Skywalker would have doubtless created and engineered the blade within- the heart of the saber.

Long ago, a lightsaber was believed to represent the soul of the Jedi who used it - it was said that another Jedi could get a ghostly sense of its wielder simply by touching it. Though Mara didn't for a second believe the romanticised fairy-tale, she could well believe that another Force-sensitive could get some kind of reading from an object individually created and so intensely and personally used by another Jedi, part of their sense perhaps imbuing the saber from long use and familiarity.

It was much heavier than hers, slightly larger, the dense, ebony-black surface of the precious-metal perennium shell which Palpatine had gifted him painstakingly tooled with a fine crosshatch and embellished with graceful organic curves of platinum, the whole saber interspersed with finely tooled bands of platinum and gold. The upper half of the shell had at some point been cut back on a long curve to expose the eight disc-shaped cycling field generators beneath, each one banded in a thin platinum strip. That, she was sure, had not been part of the original shell Palpatine had given him, the exposure of its internal workings a reminder of its purpose, leaving the distinct impression that it had been intentionally defaced to reduce a near-priceless object to a more utilitarian status.

The blade shroud was a classic staged taper and flare design, the surround of the blade modulation circuitry and the taper itself dark copper, the shroud platinum, as was the heel. Despite its obvious value, the myriad of fine scratches and nicks from years of use took away any pretension it may otherwise have had, the etched finish worn mirror-smooth in places, the tactile nature of such heavy wear appealing.

A work of art, but understated and unassuming, belying its deadly nature. It felt… dangerous, its unfamiliar weight making it unstable, difficult to hold easily. A little unpredictable, a little unnerving.

Unrestrained power beneath a civilised shell.

"May I?" Without waiting for permission, Mara held the hilt away to the side and activated it.

It burst into life with an unexpected kick of power and she had to tense the muscles in her arm against its pull. She sensed rather than saw the slight change in Skywalker's stance, though he neither lifted nor activated her own lightsaber, which he still held.

Nor did he seem to feel the need to move away.

All blades had a slight pull, a 'cant', caused by the resonant vibration unique to that crystal, which gave the blade its weight- its 'heft'. Some were smooth and light, which made them easy to handle and fast through the air. But with no heft to the blade, all momentum must come from the wielder, making the more complex moves easy to achieve, but robbing them of any power.

'Heavy' blades had a low resonance and a more marked cant, requiring far more of the wielder in order to control them. They enforced a different fighting style, since constant movement was required in order to control the gyroscopic cant. But the trade-off against these difficult, heavy blades was that their momentum gave them power through the most complex moves, making them far more deadly- if one could land a precise blow.

All blades were in essence a trade-off between the ease and speed of a slight cant and the difficult to control, deadly power of a hefty blade. Her master's blade, like Mara's, was light and fast, enhancing speed and requiring less of the wielder in terms of commitment to training, applied expertise and dexterity. Vader's blade was very much like his son's, leading Mara to wonder momentarily at the spectacle which the duel that she knew had taken place between the two would have presented.

The pitch on this blade was very low, almost like a pulse, and she felt her own heartbeat quicken in empathetic response. The kinetic cant pulled against her, so marked that she had to fight just to hold it still, as if it were alive in her hand. Yet when she moved it in a slow figure-of-eight it almost took the movement from her, pulling her on it in its eagerness to move.

It was a unique, kinetic blade, tuned far more towards offensive than defensive moves- defence required speed of reaction; attack required power. This blade was designed to take the initiative, to press the attack home.

A Sith blade.

She hefted the intense ruby blade in sweeping movements, keeping the tip low. Though she stared at it, she was aware now that her complete attention was centred on Luke - and his on her.

Aware of his gaze she glanced up at him, those strangely mismatched eyes held steady on her. Now, looking up into his scarred face, Mara was intimately aware that somehow, this had moved to a different level. The atmosphere buzzed between them, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

She looked again to the blade which fought against her hold, fascinating in its contradictions, both resisting and desiring interaction.

"It's a curious blade. It feels… dangerous."

"All blades are dangerous."

She turned to look again into those steady blue eyes "This more than most."

"Then perhaps you should stop."

"I should. But I find I don't want to." She said this as casually as she could, again moving the blade in a figure-of-eight, watching it closely, the low thrum intense in the echoing emptiness of the cavernous room. "It draws me in."

He smiled just slightly, the scar at his eye twisting, though his quiet, wary voice held neither amusement nor warning as he spoke, his eyes on the slow-moving blade. "Think carefully - don't begin something believing you can control it… these moves have a habit of gaining their own momentum."

Mara knew exactly what he was saying, but in that moment she remained completely lost in those mismatched eyes. "Do you think I should stop?"

He hesitated, and that was all the answer she needed. They held each-other's gaze for far too long, neither willing to break the moment. Then, still keeping his eyes on her, he reached out to slip his hand over hers on the hilt, deactivating the saber.

"I think we should stop playing dangerous games." he said, quietly taking his saber back.

"I thought you liked playing dangerous games?" Mara murmured, eyes never leaving his, heart beating fast at her own audacity.

"Not here." he said simply, glancing pointedly at the surveillance lens in the ceiling as she released the hilt.

Was that a blanket dismissal or simply a deferral to a more secure venue? He was already walking away, effectively ending the conversation.

"You have another location in mind?" Mara baited to his back.

He laughed briefly without looking round as he reached the doors. When he spoke his voice was guarded, dry and amused in that calm, detached way he had, as if this had been a momentary distraction, nothing more. "Surprise me."

.

.

.

"What I want," Skywalker announced thoughtfully, arm rested on the table before him against the weight of the polymer braces and metal bars which held it together, "Is something on Mara Jade."

Reece shook his head decisively, "She's impeachable- you know that."

Luke glanced down, the long scar on his face wrinkling as he frowned in consideraton, "But is she? I don't think she'd ever go against a direct order, but I'm beginning to think maybe she'll skirt the edges of unspoken rules."

Reece took a breath, but Hallin asked before he could, "Wait- why do you want something on Mara Jade?"

Luke shook his head, the movement still stiff from too many injuries, his frustration at Jade clearly evident. "Because she's like my shadow at the moment. Everywhere I go she's right there behind me, too close for comfort. I want to know how much she's telling Palpatine- in what detail."

"Everything." Reece assured. "She speaks with him regularly and she submits a written report every two days- you know that."

"Is there any way to cross-reference her information with the information you supply? Get some feel for her reports?"

Again Reece shook his head, "No, I've tried that before, giving slightly inaccurate reports to see if I was picked up on it. I never have been." Despite his change in allegiance, Reece still carefully sustained his position as one of Palpatine's spies within Luke's household, passing on selected information, though now more in an effort to encourage specific responses than to give any real insight. Gaining his trust had been a major step forward for Luke, both in terms of his freedom within the Palace and his ability to pursue a greater plan, Reece's analytical mind and knowledge of the inner workings of the Palace _and_ the Imperial military remained invaluable. "It doesn't help that I have no contact with Palpatine or any of his staff- my reports are made in isolation and sent by secure channel to Pestage- I have no feedback, none at all."

Luke fell silent, considering.

He, Reece and Hallin were in the drawing room of his private quarters, safe from the all-pervasive surveillance which was rife in the Palace. He didn't like meeting with them here like this, since although his Master's Internal Intelligence unit would have no idea what was said in the secure room, they would know that all three of them were there, which would perhaps be enough for them to consider pursuing it further. They'd gotten round this for the last few weeks by having Hallin visit early every evening on the pretext of carrying out a short medical check on his charge, Luke sometimes receiving his medic in his study or his library, both of which were bugged, but occasionally, if he had something to discuss, Luke made a point of being in his drawing room when he sensed Hallin nearing his apartments.

That Reece, as his primary Aide, was there was hopefully not something they would question, as he spent most of the day in Skywalker's company or at least very close by. Luke was playing on the fact that there had clearly always been a standing order by Palpatine that he was to be left alone as little as possible, always at least one of agent close by, and the fact that Reece was still considered to be a loyal agent, working for on Palpatine's behalf and sending covert reports to Pestage.

But at the end of the day if they cared to look carefully, someone may well begin to piece together the fact that the medic coincidentally seemed to visit his patient in one of the few rooms in the whole of the massive, sprawling Perlemian Apartments which weren't bugged at the same time as Mara Jade, Luke's other 'observer', always _happened_ not to be present. So they wisely tried to keep these meetings short when they were in the Palace, aware that they were on borrowed time.

Now Luke considered, eyes in the middle distance, "I want to know where she draws the line - if she'll still pass on information that would get her personally into trouble; place her in an undesirable situation."

Reece raised his eyebrows in question, but Hallin spoke out again, "Why that?"

"Because she came into the Practice Hall this morning and…" he narrowed mismatched eyes in consideration, "I thought I could push her; make her back down but… she didn't."

He remained silent for long seconds, studying his memories of that morning then, as if realising his company, he shrugged, "Anyway, I have a feeling that I'm stuck here for some time and I need to start getting information in and out of the Palace or this chance will be wasted." Luke said of his opportunity to move against Mon Mothma. "Hallin, you said that Jade was reprimanded recently - that she told you she was now on parole. If she were to have to admit a failure in her duties - one which could be easily left unreported - would she do it?"

"How would you check?" Reece asked, logical as ever.

Luke considered; "That's where you come in. Let's try her with something small to begin with."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I need to start moving around without being tailed anyway, so let's see what she makes of that."

"Why take the risk?" Hallin asked, ever the voice of caution.

"Firstly, it's the principle of the thing; I'm sick of being followed around. Secondly I need to test Jade; something's changed and I want to know why. Most importantly I need to regain access to Argot, and to do that I need to be in a secure situation; I'm not risking the identity of my only spy in the Rebellion. I also need to get information in and out which I'd normally attend to onboard the Peerless, and I need to speak to Karrde again - I have an assignment for his group and it's gonna take them a while to unearth all the names I need."

Luke had long used the relative freedom afforded by the Peerless' distance from Coruscant to hide his actions, customarily using the standard equipment within any of the numerous Comm Rooms onboard. The comm system would be locked down of course, but it was ridiculously easy to sit down in front of a system which was used by the same few people every day, simply rest his hands on the keys and _know_ the operator's password; what toggles were routinely pressed in which order to release an open channel on a frequency assigned to one of the few comm officers who used that room. By this method, he could send out and download a few short, encrypted long-distance messages hidden within existing background comms which were reliably untraceable since he never used the same station or the same officer's access codes twice running.

The encryption systems he used were created for him by one of Karrde's slicers. Talon Karrde headed up Luke's favoured smuggling group, which he often relied on for the kind of intelligence information from underground sources which official operatives couldn't access. His Master often used Black Sun for the same pupose - which was exactly why Luke could not. Xizor was an arrogant, egotistical braggart who sold his soul to the highest bidder, but he wasn't so stupid as to cross the Emperor. Karrde, whose outfit Luke had come across when they _almost_ successfully managed to cross his picket line twelve months earlier to deliver some clients cargo, had turned out to have at least some sense of moral obligation, and that same warped code of smuggler's integrity which reminded Luke so much of Han Solo.

His organization was small and kept a very low profile, still relatively new to the big league, and were therefore pretty much overlooked by Imperial Intelligence, and at this point, they had nothing to lose and possibly everything to gain in backing what had been, when they first began their wary association, if not actually a rank outsider in the Imperial hierarchy then at best a total newcomer. As it turned out, they'd backed the right runner and now all they had to do was sit tight and wait, and they would soon be in the coveted position that Black Sun now enjoyed - and Karre knew it.  
There was nothing concentrated loyalties like the realisation that one's client was next in line to the Imperial Throne.

None of which helped Luke if he couldn't actually get word out to them. Right now, trapped in the Palace, he was completely isolated, unable to give or receive orders from contacts and field agents he had spent the last two years placing.

"Why do you need Karrde?" Reece queried.

"I need the names and locations of any Bothans who supply information to the Rebellion. Any at all, past and present. And I want to know if he's got me my scapegoat yet."

"Why Bothans?" Hallin frowned.

"Because the Rebellion is Lord Vader's mandate- it always was. If I go after them openly then I'm countermanding a direct order from the Emperor, and I need him in an amenable mood when I make my play. The Bothans however are fair game, and everyone knows they would have been the ones who passed information to the Rebels about the Peerless' stop at Kuat Shipyards."

"Bothawuii is in the Rim Regions." Reece reminded, "If you take the Peerless outside the Core..."

"I won't. Covert units from the 701st will go after them - we'll rendezvous close to Devaron. I just need Mothma to know it's me who's doing this." At their bewildered, expectant faces, he finally relented a little and gave them the key; "It was Mon who personally brokered the deal with the Bothans to supply intelligence to the Rebellion."

"You want her to become personally involved?" Hallin asked, uncertain; it wasn't like Luke to expend this kind of energy in simply wounding someone who had wounded him.

"I know Mon and I know that if I harass the Bothans enough, she'll feel responsible. If I can predict where she'll be for just a few hours…"

"You're going after Mon Mothma?" Even Reece was taken aback, "I thought this was to get rid of Palpatine's Rebel spy and reinforce Argot" He paused, clearly searching for the right way to say this… "Is this perhaps dividing your attention a little?"

He knew that The Heir had no particular loyalties to the Rebellion; that had never been his intention in passing select information over for over a year now under the guise of a mid-level officer in the Core Fleet - if it had been, then Wez would never have defected and helped him - but to try to take Mothma down now, with neither backing nor permission from the Emperor, was incredibly risky.

"Palpatine wants a show of commitment from me and I need to remove Mon. She's now given me the perfect opportunity to do both and I won't pass it by." Luke said simply, his tone inviting no argument.

Both men fell to silence, considering The Heir's intentions, looking for flaws in logic or judgment. Luke waited, willing to consider any reasonable opinion.

"How will you know where Mothma will be?" Hallin asked at last.

"Argot will tell me, as well as trying to get Mothma as close to the Core Systems as possible - if I can re-establish contact."

"Why not use Admiral Joss as a go-between for you and Argot - just whilst you're stuck here in…" Hallin began.

"No- absolutely not." Luke cut in decisively, "I won't pass Argot's access codes to a third party- even one I trust implicitly."

"Surely it would be the easiest method right now."

"It would be too much of a risk- I'd have to give him too much. If Palpatine were to find out about Joss's loyalties then he could easily pull that information from him. Plus I need to maintain direct contact with the Al…Rebellion. I need to pass on that The Heir's going after the Bothans to back up the trustworthyness of their supposed mole in the Core Fleet."

It was, Hallin noted, Luke's first slip since the assassination attempt; previously he had always made the subtle differentiation of referring to the Rebels as the Alliance - a name only he used here in the Palace, probably because he had been among them for so long and this was how they referred to themselves - now, he had made a choice, conscious or not, to distance himself from the group.

"The longer I leave it before passing on information again under that identity, the more suspicious they'll be when I do so, particularly after an absence which just happens to coincide with The Heir's stay on Coruscant."

"They won't believe it's you, surely. They'd have no reason to make that connection." Hallin said.

"But they may well believe it's a member of my close entourage, which would put any consequent information under greater suspicion when we're trying so hard to create trust. They've always been encouraged to believe that their contact is aboard the Peerless."

"Which would seem to suggest that Hallin's right. Someone you have confidence in should continue to make contact with them from the Peerless in your absence."

"No. No-one uses those contacts but me."

Skywalker was as always, Reece knew, juggling several balls at once, keeping them all in the air. Reece and Hallin were his two greatest confidants, but Reece knew that even they saw only a fraction of the greater plan. Who exactly in the Rebellion Skywalker had access to, under what false identity and for what reasons were not facts he was willing to share - he simply couldn't afford to tell them more, Reece knew, for precisely the reason that he was unwilling to pass out codes to Joss.

Hallin however, was less convinced. "Admiral Joss could so easily pass information on from a safe location."

Luke shook his head infinitesimally, "First, we would be relying on Joss having a reliably secure channel which he could access regularly without it getting hacked by Internal Intelligence. Second, even if Internal Intel couldn't slice Karrde's encryption, simply catching Joss sending encrypted messages to the Rebels would be enough to condemn both Joss and consequently myself of treason. That would put me back in your medi-bay and Joss in front of a firing squad as well as revealing every active agent I have that Joss had codes to. And third, we now know that Argot's risking discovery from Palpatine's agent Leemarit- which I want to deal with myself."

Hallin frowned at that, unsure why exactly Luke felt the driving need to deal with Palpatine's agent himself. "Joss wouldn't give your name up."

"Maybe not under standard interrogation, but he's still my Admiral - Palpatine would become involved the moment it was reported and I guarantee you he would drag those codes and my involvement from him."

"If you're so worried about Palpatine, then how come Reece and I are safe?" Hallin argued mildly.

"Because Reece is a deep-cover agent so has no contact whatsoever with Palpatine, and I think he probably already knows about you but I would imagine he doesn't want to waste what will be a one-off opportunity to bring you in for information; he'll bide his time until it's worth his while."

"Well that's nice to know." Hallin deadpanned, mouth dry. It had never really occurred to him before that the Emperor may know of his loyalties and be simply waiting for a convenient moment to strike.

Luke smiled tightly, "Relax, Nathan, he has to give me some breaks, some illusion of independence, and you know he's a great advocate of 'better the devil you know'. If it makes you feel any better, it's also why I try to keep you out of the Imperial Palace and travelling with the fleet as much as possible."

"I've been here two months now." Hallin pointed out.

"Which is why I want you back aboard the Peerless. But it's a little difficult to rationalize sending my personal medic away when I'm still like this." Luke held up his pinned and immobilised arm, the frustration in his voice evident. "Which is why you're taking it off tomorrow."

"Two weeks." Hallin corrected.

"Tomorrow."

"I'll take the polymer forms off tomorrow." Hallin bargained, "The bars have to stay."

"All of them?"

"I'll look at the ones on your collarbones. And you'll stop doing lightsaber practice."

"Good." Luke said, and Hallin knew that he'd continue - he'd neither agreed nor argued the point, just passed it by. If he held true to form, he'd distract with a change of subject or disguise with a question.

"To get back to the point," Luke continued without giving Hallin a chance to reply, "I need to get a message out which means I need to influence a comm officer to get his code, which means I need to be far enough away from the Tower that Palpatine won't pick up on it. I can hide it to some degree, but I'd need to be in The Monolith to be sure."

The Monolith was the massive bulk of the Main Palace on which the four Habitation Towers rested, the central hub of the Empire where all information, reports and requests eventually ended up before being processed and delivered to the Emperor's Advice Council in the Cabinet of the South Tower for deliberation. All decisions controlling every aspect of life, military and civilian, passed through the the Cabinet before being returned to the Monolith below for implementation. Palpatine, ever paranoid of insurrection, kept this procedure close to hand, watching and listening, always searching for any betrayal.

"I'm uncomfortable with you sending illicit messages out so close to the Emperor." Reece fretted, always the bodyguard. But for him to voice this out loud, Luke knew he must be sincerely worried.

"Options are limited until I can get out of the Palace." Luke said firmly, not wanting this to devolve into an extended discussion, aware that time was short. "I can get down into the Monolith without being seen, you know that. But not with Mara Jade on my tail - and reporting it."

"Which is why you want her to be used to losing you for short periods of time." Hallin realised, of Luke's original assertion.

Luke nodded, "We just need to break her in gently. If it's happened several times and she always finds me quickly and somewhere reasonably innocuous, she won't bother to report it - or she won't want to admit it. I'll take either."

"Just another of your little personality quirks." Hallin said dryly.

"When tomorrow?" Reece asked.

"First thing." Luke replied. "First few will be very short - nothing unexpected except that I'm not in my quarters. She's smart enough to figure out where I am if I don't vary my routine. If she can find me within a few comms, with a little encouragement she won't bother to report it."

Reece nodded, understanding his role. "If I may, Commander, I think our time's up tonight." He glanced meaningfully at the door, and everyone knew he was right.

Luke stood, his companions automatically rising. They may be his co-conspirators, but protocol and etiquette were so deeply instilled here in the Palace that everyone still obeyed them even privately. The Commander was after all, Heir to the Empire, and despite his early misgivings at such protocol, it hqd slowly become routine that one did not sit in his presence unless invited to do so.

Hallin waited as Reece set forward to the door, Luke waiting until they were alone, knowing that the medic had something to say.

"I'd just like to clarify something, Commander," the slight medic said, "For my own edification."

Luke lifted his eyebrows in invitation.

"Yourself and Commander Jade…" He was trying so hard to be discreet, Luke knew. "I thought… I was under the impression that you and she were…."

"No." Luke said simply, saving Nathan the trouble of trying to continue.

"Ah. Then you should probably know that… the reason that Jade was so… upset by the termination of her position was…"

"I'm aware of why, Nathan. Thank you." Luke said, his dismissive tone indicating that the subject was closed.

Hallin remained still, eyes remaining on Luke.

"Are you telling me I should trust her?" Luke asked doubtfully, his voice indicating just how unwise he thought that was, "She remains what she's always been Nathan; Palpatine's prime agent and a thorn in my side."

"But her own feelings may…" Hallin fell to silence, suddenly realising the larger picture.

That was why Skywalker felt it was worth pushing Jade's reaction; he thought that she would back down and not report information because she knew it could jeopardise her position close to Skywalker. Not because he believed she'd fear a reprimand - that was nothing to Luke; withstanding the Emperor's volatile temper was such a way of life for him that he wouldn't consider it important to anyone else either.

No, he was gambling that Jade's interest in him would buy him some breathing room.

Yet their casual closeness in the medi-center had seemed so real to Hallin… had he been wrong - or was the man who had been so unremittingly taught by the Emperor that success necessitated a willingness to use any opportunity which came his way, now prepared to use his own feelings as ruthlessly as he was using Jade's?

"I wonder…" Nathan paused, searching for the right words…

"Come on then, out with it."

"I just wondered how you're sleeping at the moment?"

"Get to the point, Nathan."

Hallin glanced down tactfully, just a touch of nervousness in his voice, "I'm wondering if this is a good time for us to discuss the whole inadvisability of making major decisions following a traumatic head injury?"

"Meaning?"

"You remember our discussion about postconcussion syndrome - I said that you may find it necessary to manage certain… personality changes for a while. That you may find you are more irritable; short-tempered. That you may find it more difficult to come to an… unbiased decision. That your judgment may be impaired for a while."

Luke lifted his chin, mismatched eyes sharpening, as did his tone, "You think I've made the wrong decision?"

"I think, perhaps," Hallin began diplomatically, "You may find that.. you're taking a more aggressive stance."

Luke glanced away, voice losing none of its edge, "What I find is that I'm sick and tired of tip-toeing around Mara Jade. Let her do the hard work for a while, I'm done with it."

Again Hallin paused, "But its not really Mara Jade you're tiptoeing around, is it? It's Palpatine."

Luke didn't hesitate, "Perhaps I'm sick and tired of tip-toeing around Palpatine too."

Hallin remained silent, but Luke was in no mood to allow it. "Do you have some kind of problem with that?"

"No," Hallin said gently,

"Because it's nothing that I haven't said before."

"Absolutely. I just haven't heard you say it quite as… directly before."

"Which doesn't make it wrong."

"I'm just saying that perhaps you should hold off making any major decisions for a while. That you may be acting out of character and not know it. I just want you to understand that your sense of judgment may be slightly skewed at the moment; that you may take greater risks, that you may take action which wouldn't normally be in your character, though it may not seem that way to you."

"And in your professional opinion – as my physician – do you believe that's happened?"

Hallin hesitated, not wishing to place Luke in a position where he would constantly try to second-guess his every decision; when the slightest flaw was magnified and used by the Emperor's all-seeing eye, hesitation and self-doubt would kill. But under scrutiny from a Master who was famous for utilizing such subtleties, Luke's own abilities were honed to razor-sharpness and Hallin's hesitation had spoken volumes.

"You think I've lost my way."

"No." Hallin said immediately.

"Then you think I'm about to."

Again that telling hesitation.

Luke couldn't keep the edge from his voice, "Do you disagree with what I've said?"

"No."

"Is it contrary to anything I've said in the past?"

"Luke, please don't misunderstand, I'm not trying to catch you out- that isn't the reason I'm saying this. I just want you to understand that your injuries may be more than the obvious".

"The people whom I trusted with my life - the people whom I would have given my life to protect three years ago have just tried to kill me. Of course my injury is more than physical." Luke set his head to one side, a little of the anger softening now, "But you want to know that this is more than just revenge."

Hallin almost flinched; had Luke read his mind? He couldn't remember the last time Luke had done that without consent… but he held firm. "Tell me this is all part of some greater strategy. Not just to gain power or some level of independence - I need to know it's more than just that." he needed desperately to hear it.

Luke hesitated just for a second, tempted in a way he'd never been before – to push Hallin simply to see how far he could be pushed. "And if it wasn't?"

He caught himself immediately; now wasn't the time for idle games. "You know it's more than that. This – Mothma, Palpatine– it's a means to an end Hallin, it's not an end in itself. It never has been to me - I thought you knew that. But I thought, _hoped_ , that when the time was right, when everything was in place, I would eventually be able to open negotiations with the Rebellion – with Mon Mothma. That's not going to happen; Mothma's now made it clear that she'll never be an ally and I won't leave an enemy that powerful at my back when I have an opportunity to remove her. I can't fight on two fronts and I can't afford to be trapped in the middle any more."

Squeamish morals had held him to inaction for too long and he knew it now. It had been an expensive lesson hard-learned, but as his Master was so fond of saying, they were the ones that were remembered. "We need to put ourselves beyond that kind of threat on _both_ fronts. We need to move forward-_ I_ need to move forward, or this was all for nothing. It's not enough to learn; the lesson's not realized until you act upon it."

Hallin frowned, looking at his friend anew. Luke had always been someone who, so much like Hallin himself, had always endeavoured to sit on the sideline and not get involved; to do the minimum that was expected of him and try as much as possible to remain under the radar. Yes, he was headstrong and wilful and all the things that the Emperor had always accused him of, but essentially, Luke had tried his hardest to remain neutral and detached. To the point in fact, that Hallin had always wondered at the Emperor's zeal in controlling him.  
Only once did Hallin think he'd seen a glimpse of what Luke was capable of, and that had been when he had so single-mindedly set out to get his friend, the Corellian, free from the Palace. And then, with a goal, all that unassailable will had been pinpoint-focused; relentless, resolute and indomitable- and shockingly effective. Was that the real Luke Skywalker? Was that why he had been considered so dangerous when he had been allied to the Rebels? Was the true Luke Skywalker _that_ man– a man who, once he had a mission, an objective – a belief – pursued it relentlessly and unwaveringly to the exclusion of everything else, his own safety included?

Luke held Nathan's eyes without compunction, feeling not a trace of misgiving. Everything that he had done to this point had been in avoidance or defence. Now, with a terrible clarity, he could see just how pointless that had been. Was it true what Nathan had said- had his injuries changed him… or was it the Emperor, with his mind-games and manipulations? Or was it simply circumstance; his visceral realisation of just how vulnerable he really was.

Regardless, Luke had made the basic error of letting events overtake him, believing he could stand back, impartial and nonaligned, and it had made him an easy target. The only way to remedy that was to start moving again; to take control, to take events into his own hands and push forward- to be pro-active, not reactive.  
And as heir to the Empire, there was only one position left for him to strive for; only one goal to secure.

Hallin still held Luke's eye, searching to understand whether his injuries had sharpened his edge, overwhelmed it, or simply returned it to his previous nature - was Hallin finally seeing Palpatine's wolf?

He stilled, realization like a blow to the gut;

"You're going after the throne aren't you?" Hallin uttered the unthinkable – and Luke didn't even blink.


	9. Chapter 9

"Where is he this morning?" Mara leaned into the Staff Offices at the edge of Luke's apartments, an edge to her voice. Though the Royal Guards stood to stiff attention at the apartment's open doors and Clem, Luke's Palace-assigned bodyguard, was stood in the main cupola, Mara had made a slow loop of the apartments and he was nowhere to be seen. Why did he always do this on _her_ shift?

Reece rose from a holo-screen, glancing sideways to her, "That's just what I'm trying to find out, Commander." he said flatly, glancing back down, "He was here a few minutes ago."

"I swear he does it on purpose." Mara walked easily into the room, not yet alarmed - it was the third morning that Luke had gone missing, but he generally turned up pretty quickly, and no-where unusual. She'd actually made the effort to get up a little earlier this morning, in an attempt to try to catch him out.

"Yes," Reece agreed absently, "I think he just gets a kick out of knowing that I have to fill in a report sheet every time he goes walkabout."

"Have you tried the Practice Halls?" she asked, though she knew that Reece would be doing so; it was where Luke generally turned up.

"Just patching in." Reece said, eyes still on the translucent display - and there he was, the view distorted by the small ceiling-height lens.

"Got him." Reece declared, "Will you go or shall I?"

"I'll go," Mara said, "It's my shift." She had in truth been a few minutes late to arrive despite her early rise, caught in the corridor by Hallin, in a talkative mood for once.

Reece stood as she headed for the door, keeping his voice casual, "I would… imagine The Heir may well make this a regular thing, now that his health is improving. As long as we find him quickly, I see no cause for alarm. I think we're perfectly capable of dealing with this in-house."

Mara glanced back, realising what he was saying… "Sure." she said at last, "I see no problem with that."

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"Well, well, well," Mara said lazily as she crossed the hall toward him, her own saber in hand, "You're a hard man to find."

He gave her an easy smile, "Clearly you were looking in the wrong places."

"No, I was looking in the right places, you just weren't there."

"That's 'cos I was here." he said as she drew level.

"Without your guards." She couldn't quite keep the chastising tone from her voice.

He swung his lightsaber nonchalantly, tip down, "Just keeping in practice."

Mara didn't fail to spot the double meaning in his words, but let it pass. "Yeah, well, keep in practice on…" she almost slipped and said Reece's shift, but caught herself in time, "Someone else's shift, please."

He shifted his grip on his lightsaber, holding it hilt upwards so the blade pointed down, and swung it in a lazy infinity loop to either side of his body, his tone light and genial. "What's wrong, Red- bit of a stretch at this time on a morning? Maybe you're slipping."

"Maybe you're just trying to get my back up." Mara retorted.

"Everything's always about you, isn't it Red?" he accused lightly, still swinging the blade, eyes on Mara.

"Hey, I'm not a morning person, okay?" She grumbled, made aware by his amused tone that she was overreacting. "And would you stop swinging that saber around when you're not watching the blade."

"If I have to watch the blade to know where it is then I'm abysmally inept, and I hate to disappoint you about my morning walk, but it's the principle of the thing." He said mildly, "I get tired of being followed around by my little red shadow."

The double meaning of that brought a wry smile to Luke's lips; he had been speaking of course of the scarlet-clad Royal Guard who accompanied him everywhere, but her blaze of long, gold-flecked auburn air had earned Mara a similar nick-name. If she saw the connection, she didn't voice it.

"They're there to protect you."

"Right." He said dryly- but then Mara hadn't really expected him to go for that. "You know I managed to get along just fine on my own for twenty-one years."

"You weren't Heir to the Imperial Throne then." Mara stepped just a little too close to Skywalker to in an effort to call his bluff and stop him spinning the blade, but he only took a half-step closer to her and adjusted the loop of the blade slightly so that it now included a slice to either side of her own body on the return loops around his. Mara raised her eyebrows, determined not to flinch before the whirling blade.

"I wasn't The Heir when they started following me everywhere either." He countered without animosity. "And are you trying to tell me that two guards would have been able to protect me when the bomb detonated?"

"I'm not trying to tell you anything." Mara replied, her tone beginning to sharpen again, uneasy at the low thrum of the swinging blade as it whipped past her head. "I really couldn't care less."

Skywalker stopped swinging the blade and glanced down at the lightsaber in her hand. Mara knew exactly what he was going to say; his previous caveat about her losing her temper too easily for him to be willing to teach her lightsaber stanza obviously foremost in his mind.

"This doesn't count." She claimed before he was able to speak, "We haven't started yet… technically."

"We're in the Practice Hall and you have a lightsaber- I'd say that counts."

"That's an interesting point." Mara allowed, not rising to the bait;_ 'No ill temper,_' Skywalker had said- '_Come back when you can do that.'_

Luke raised his eyebrows, a mix of scepticism and disbelief in his eyes, but Mara only imparted her most composed, serene smile. "See? No crabbiness. I'm the soul of discretion and calm. No more tantrums - whilst I'm holding a lightsaber."

He grinned, "None at all?"

"No."

"Whatsoever?"

"No."

"So is this a good time to ask you what was going on with your hair last week - with the weird braids and the…"

Mara lifted up her lightsaber hilt, "This works, you know…"

He smiled, tilting his head. "Tell you what, Red, I'll make a deal with you. I'll polish up your lightsaber skills and you teach me close combat."

She frowned, "What do you need close quarters combat for?"

"What do you need lightsaber skills for?"

And once again, everything boiled down to this, Mara knew; chances were, the only person each would need to use those skills against was the other- and Skywalker knew it. Like her, he was willing to trade a portion of his knowledge for a portion of hers- in more ways than one. He could have any instructor he chose come to the Palace to teach him close combat - had trained with the Red Guard instructors intermittently - but after three years, she knew how his mind worked, and _knew_ that he probably figured that this also gained him the opportunity to familiarise himself with a possible opponent's strengths and weaknesses.

Or maybe, like her, there was something else as well… something too difficult to admit as yet. Things seemed to have turned about since his injury, everything shaken up - for the better, it seemed. There was something palpably different about him; some sense of commitment, of direction.

She grinned impishly, "I see our whole relationship to date condensed down into this moment." she uttered knowingly, repeating the words he'd spoken to her just a few days earlier.

He smiled disarmingly then stepped to the side, settling into a ready-position. "Well it's nice to have a little consistency in one's life." he murmured, eyes front, "Ready?"

Still smiling, Mara adjusted her own feet accordingly, bringing her hilt to the ready position, wondering how this easy-going, affable charmer could also be the mercurial, volatile Sith whom Palpatine deemed it necessary to invest so much in controlling.

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**CHAPTER TEN**

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Turned away from the door and apparently gazing out into space from his private ready-room to the rear of the Peerless' bridge, Luke watched General Veers enter in the reflection of the transparisteel viewport, eyes narrowing.

He had been given permission by Palpatine to return to the fleet only hours earlier and had done so immediately, his haste throwing his staff into pandemonium as they rushed to comply - why exactly he didn't know as he'd made it clear for weeks that the moment he was released from the Emperor's entourage, he would leave.

It was time to put his own house in order.

The Peerless was already on a course out of Coruscant's high orbit, the Dauntless, the Fury and the Dominant in close formation for the short hyperspace jump to Corulag where Karrde would be secretly waiting, before Luke had finally summoned his new General - or rather, Palpatine's.

Normally Luke would tolerate someone of Veers' seniority as a member of his staff even though he knew that the General was reporting directly to the Emperor, amusing himself by simply feeding or denying his Master's new mole information as he saw fit. It was a fact of life here, and he'd had every intention of doing the same with Veers.

Then he had seen the General on his bridge and the black knot that pulled tight in his gut had pushed all other considerations aside.

Veers had informed on his father, probably for years, and while once that would have instilled nothing more than detached amusement, now it seemed… intolerable. The General had remained outside of Luke's reach as long as he had stayed with the Rim Fleet, but now he had transferred to the Core fleet - to Luke's own flagship - and no doubt had the insolence to presume that he could do the same here with impunity.

Just a few words, Luke assured himself; nothing too contentious. Just to let the arrogant, self-satisfied General know that Luke was watching him. He shouldn't of course; should just play him instead- string him along for months with spoon-fed information and carefully-manipulated facts. Should use him before he disposed of him. He _knew_ that.

Veers turned to Luke now, saluting smartly with a click of his heels. Luke remained motionless, neither turning nor acknowledging the gesture.

"Commander." Veers said confidently, "Thank-you for accepting my request for transfer. I understand that you had a good working relationship with General Reiss and I hope to maintain that tradition. I look forward to a long and favourable co-operation between…"

Luke turned just slightly, voice ice and steel, "Co-operation? There is no _co-operation_ between us, General. You are my subordinate and you always will be - unless you intend to rule the Empire one day?"

"No Sir," the General faltered just slightly, "Forgive me, I simply meant…"

"Why did you leave the Executor ?"

"Sir?" Veers was floundering now, uncertain.

"It's a perfectly reasonable question. Why did you leave the Executor?"

"I felt… that… your style of dynamic leadership was more in keeping with my…"

"Stop there, Veers." Luke turned at last, locking hard eyes on the General, "I think the best that we can possibly hope to achieve from your assignment to the Peerless would be that we understand each-other, you and I. So let me explain my views, before you talk yourself any further into an undefendable position."

Veers was held to an uneasy silence, the tone of Luke's voice demanding no less. "You see, I know what you are, Veers. I know why you're here and I know what you think it will gain you. You invested a great deal of time and effort in paying Lord Vader lipservice while you informed the Emperor of his every move. For whatever reason, he chose to ignore that- I however, am not Vader. I do not tolerate such actions from those close to me."

Veers had paled to ashen white, eyes wide at the direct accusation, "My Lord, I wouldn't dream of…"

Luke set his head on one side, incensed, "_DON'T_….. _don't_ lie to me, Veers."

The General fell to silence before the outburst and Luke held his eye for long seconds, shoulders tense, jaw tight, voice filled with quiet malice now, so clearly at the edge of exploding.

"If I _once_ catch you delivering information to Palpatine about myself or my crew… I will turn your smug face inside out, Veers. And if you think that your affiliation with the Emperor will buy you any immunity from my wrath, then you are sadly mistaken. If I invested the greater part of every day for the rest of this voyage making sure that your last days were a living hell before I finally ripped you apart, then I can guarantee that the most I would get from the Emperor would be a rap on the knuckles for dividing my attention whilst on duty."

Luke set slowly forward as he spoke, voice low with undisguised menace, uncanny, mismatched eyes narrowed in threat. "You come in here and you have the gall to think that you can stand before a Sith and tell bare-faced lies. You _assume_ that because Lord Vader allowed you that indulgence then I will do the same... You are gravely mistaken, General. I will be watching you very closely. Members of my staff will be watching you very closely. Members of your own staff - those you _think_ you can trust - will be watching you very closely. All day, every day. I am just waiting for you to stumble, Veers, privately or professionally, because the moment that you do… you're mine. Do we have an understanding now, General?"

Veers remained locked in shocked silence for long seconds, intimidation and uncertainty freezing him to the spot as the black-clad man came to a slow halt before him, tense expression completely composed though his eyes were seething and his low voice clipped with barely restrained fury.

"If I were you, Veers, I would say 'Yes Sir' and I would salute smartly, then I would turn around and walk very quickly from this room... and think myself _very_ lucky to have gotten out before that volatile Sithspawn of a Commander lost any last semblance of control. And I would make it my mission for the remainder of this journey to stay the hell out of his way because he is clearly on a very, very short fuse."

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Mara watched General Veers walk shakily from The Commander's ready-room to the aft turbolifts and enter without a sideways glance. Frowning, she made her way to the ready-room and knocked lightly before entering, Skywalker looking up from his desk, that easy, open expression making him seem far younger than his years.

"What did you say to the General?" She asked as she wandered over, "He looked pretty rattled as he left."

Luke shrugged, resting his hand on his chin, fingers steepled before his scarred lips, "Really? Just clarifying our working relationship. Nothing I haven't said to a hundred others like him."

Mara scowled as Skywalker turned back to reading his automemo, though she kept her voice casual, "You don't like him, do you?"

Luke didn't look up, attention seemingly on his work though Mara knew it was nothing of the sort. He had that brittle edginess to him right now, that volatile, quicksilver sense of someone teetering at the brink, like the calm eye in the centre of the storm. it was as compelling, as charismatic as ever to Mara.

"I liked my old General." Skywalker said easily without looking up. "We worked well together. We knew how each-other thought."

"You know how everybody thinks." Mara countered.

Luke shrugged, glancing up. "Yes, but people who understand how I think are few and far between."

"Tell me about it." Mara said dryly, "Maybe you'll get General Reiss back one day."

Skywalker smiled that easy, charming smile, "Yes- I'm sure I will."

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**CHAPTER**** ELEVEN**

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"Mon, you need to get up here." It was Leia, voice full of apprehension, making Mon grimace in the privacy of her office.

"On my way." She didn't bother asking what had happened - after the last few weeks, she had a pretty good idea, and the details would become apparent soon enough, no doubt.

Mon entered Ops to see Leia, Ackbar and Massa staring at status screens, the readouts still too far away for Mon to decipher. "Report?"

"They have Toll'daa." Massa said without preamble, "His whole unit."

Mon blanched, stepping forward, "Is this confirmed?"

Toll'daa was the leader of yet another of the deep-cover Bothan spy cells which routinely supplied the Rebellion with information. The arrest of his troop would make a total of five Rebel-biased cells which the Empire had now closed down in the last month. Or rather, the 701st - The Wolf's own private little army.

Ever since he'd been let loose from Coruscant he'd been hounding the Bothhans, covert, plain-clothes units of his 701st turning up everywhere, quietly taking down the deep-cover Bothan spy cells then disappearing back to the Core Systems with their prisoners in tow. Very neat and very professional, as they always were. And it wasn't just complete cells - they were taking the trouble to hunt down individuals, those who worked in isolation, _any_ Bothan who had any connection with the spy rings which served the Alliance.

It was a personal little vendetta being methodically executed against those who had been involved, no matter how insignificantly, in the assassination attempt. Leia's anonymous contact from onboard the Peerless had smuggled out several messages of warning, though he had no specific details. Why exactly it was being visited specifically on the Bothans she didn't know- so far, despite Vader's anticipated clampdown, the Alliance itself had escaped relatively unscathed, but that couldn't be expected to continue.

"They missed a scheduled contact, and then Toll'daa's name just came up in a routine report from the SSD Peerless back to Intel on Coruscant- encrypted of course. Ten others are listed, so they're one short - either someone escaped or they were killed in the raid."

Mon sighed, fighting back her rising panic, "Where are they getting their information from? Someone's supplying this- they didn't already know about all those groups. They couldn't have."

Obviously The Heir had his own informants outside official Imperial Intelligence, but to date they had no idea who they were.

"I would surmise that they've known for several weeks and been taking their time to get in place and watch for any bolt-holes or safe exit routes whilst they were waiting for The Heir to be released from Coruscant." the Intel Chief said, voice calm and unaffected as ever. "This is a planned campaign - it hasn't just happened. The attacks are too close together. The Heir must have been gathering information and assigning tactical groups to their targets whilst he was still in the Palace on Coruscant."

"Then why not take them all down in a single strike?" Leia murmured.

"That I don't know." Tag admitted, eyes still to the information scrolling down the screen. "There must be a tactical advantage, otherwise The Wolf wouldn't do it. I doubt its coincidence and I don't think he's getting information from one group which condemns the next, though that may be what he wants us to believe - that they're breaking under interrogation. Its more likely to be a psychological ploy to panic the Bothans into severing ties to the Alliance. He of all people would know how much we rely on the Bothans- he may be trying to isolate us."

It still unsettled Leia when Tag occasionally referred to Skywalker- he'd always be that to her- by that disquieting epithet, more commonly used in Imperial circles, but then the groups Tag moved in and the reports she read from Imperial spies often referred to him as such. Why exactly it bothered her so much Leia had no idea; she'd long since let him go and had no reason to change her mind. She narrowed her eyes, considering; if the Bothans withdrew support it would be a major setback.

"Why now, after all these years?" Ackbar murmured.

Massa didn't even hesitate, "As I said before, if you plan an assassination attempt on The Wolf, then make sure it's successful because Force help us if it isn't. I never met the man personally, but all of the psyche profiles indicate he's someone with his own set of morals no matter how skewed, and he adheres to them quite stringently. I think as far as he was concerned, this has long been a case of 'You don't bother me and I won't bother you'. He now believes we crossed the line- _we_ made the declaration of war and now it's open season. He'll no doubt believe we only have ourselves to blame."

"So if we retaliate for the Bothans, the situation will escalate?" Leia asked.

"I would say yes," Massa replied, "Which doesn't mean I advocate just sitting here and taking it."

"But if we do anything, he'll go after the Bothans, not us." Leia said; very neat, very specific - if they reacted at all, then they made the Bothan's plight worse. If they didn't… probably he would continue to provoke until they _had_ to. Either way, the Bothans were paying for their choices- who could blame them if they chose to distance themselves from the Alliance in an attempt to diffuse the situation?

"Your recommendation?" Mon asked.

Massa paused, considering. "If you choose to retaliate, then I would suggest keeping any campaign well outside his reach - outside of the Core and Colony Systems. I believe that's why we're still here; we're outside his jurisdiction so he has no way to get to us. But I would advise you to bear in mind his continued persecution of the Bothans. He's working hard to put a wedge between them and ourselves- to make them feel that they're paying the price for our actions. Any retaliation that we effect now may be at their expense and serve to further alienate them, which would be playing into The Wolf's hands."

Leia turned to Mon at this, "Do you think it could work?"

Mon more than any other, knew the Bothan's mind. It was she who'd first made contact with them over a decade ago and she who'd brokered the deal which both parties had held to since then. She remained their main contact and had worked hard to keep the deal in place. The Alliance relied perhaps a little too heavily on the Bothan's extensive spy network to supply information on a scale which they simply couldn't match. The thought of possibly losing that connection was enough to make everybody nervous.

"No it won't work, because I won't let it." Mon announced, fire and permasteel in her voice.

She turned to Ackbar, "Admiral, please make preparations for a small team to go to Bothawuii. I'll contact Olin'yaa and provide you with a time and location as soon as I'm able."

"Of course, Chief." Ackbar acknowledged, his deep, gravelly voice indicating concurrence with the decision. "Who will head up the team?"

"I will." Mon said simply.

"What?" Leia blurted out, before reining in her reaction, "I wonder whether that's wise, Mon."

"Bothawuii is outside of The Heir's reach, and a small contingent would easily be able to slip in and out of the system without being noticed." Mothma countered.

"Still… perhaps I could go…" Leia murmured, unsure.

"No, it should be me who attends in person," Mon insisted, "I've always maintained close ties with the Bothans and with Olin'yaa in person. For me to send someone else now would be politically unsound. We're seeking to reassure them."

"Olin'yaa would take this as a statement of supportive collaboration." Massa confirmed of the leader who represented the Bothan's interests in this. "And Bothawuii is in the Mid Rim - well outside of the Core Fleets' jurisdiction. However, perhaps we could suggest a more neutral ground than the planet itself; in view of The Wolf's actions, I'd imagine it will probably be under observation by Lord Vader's fleet. I'd be more comfortable if we could name the location ourselves, Chief Mothma - and as late as possible. I'm sure Olin'yaa would accept this as reasonable security measures."

"Within the system though, Tag. I don't want it to look like we're afraid to be near them when they're under fire because of our actions."

"How exactly are you going to reassure them?" Leia couldn't help but ask.

Mon turned, voice quiet, "I don't know, Leia- I really don't know."

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"Sit." Luke invited without turning, and the tall dark-haired man set forward casually, collapsing into the memoryform chair in the private quarters of the man who was Imperial Heir and Commander of the Core Fleet. It was, Talon Karrde knew, a uniquely privileged position that he was in, though he'd yet to work out why exactly. He watched as the Commander poured two glasses of brandy, neither man feeling any need to fill the silence, both confident in their own position and respectful of each others.

Karrde sipped at the dark spirit, looking appreciatively at it as he swirled the heavy glass. It was a good vintage of course - very good in fact - but there were better out there, which prompted another question; why?

"Corellian?" he murmured, glancing up, "I never understand why you don't stock Ruusan."

"I like Corellian brandy." The Commander said conversationally as he settled into the chair opposite, glancing down at his own glass. "An… acquaintance introduced me to it. It was the only spirit he drank and he'd let you drink nothing else when you were with him."

"Then he must have been Corellian- they're always quick to sound their own praise." It was a test really - an attempt to dig a little deeper.

The Commander glanced up, a knowing half-smile on his face, and the smuggler chief knew that even this most casual of interests, spoken with no other motive than to answer his own private curiosity, was unpermissible.

"Do you have my bulk freighters?" The Commander said simply, and Karrde smiled just slightly beneath his dark handlebar moustache. He genuinely liked the Commander, much as he'd tried to convince himself otherwise. If he didn't, he would have extricated himself from this little 'business arrangement' long before now, profitable as it was. But despite all hearsay to the contrary, the young man who faced him now was no arrogant tyrant and no callous murderer. He had an edge to him yes, the smuggler didn't argue that, but Karrde had met more than his fair share of hardened killers and pitiless assassins in the circles he moved through and he prided himself on his ability to read a person quickly and accurately - it had kept him alive in a profession where longevity was the exception rather than the norm.

"Yes, three, all with credible ID's." Karrde said easily, "Do you have my dates?"

"Not yet. Bill me from one month from today."

"For how long?"

"Until I say otherwise." The Commander replied casually, refusing to be led.

Karrde had intended to push further, but The Commander moved the conversation on too quickly, "They need to be well-armed and shielded, and be able to give false readings to DER and lifeform sensors."

"What are they hiding, and from what?" Karrde asked, a more reasonable question than it sounded; hiding inactivate technology from passive sensor scans was a hell of a lot easier than hiding charged ion cannons or starfighters on warm-up, and hiding anything from a small fighters' broad-range sensors was a breeze compared to the full-spectrum data and analysis systems on a Frigate or a Destroyer. Still, The Commander wasn't in the habit of giving too much away, especially to Karrde, a self-professed information-dealer.

"They're hiding lifeforms, small-scale technology and TIE's, which will be on active pre-flight. As far as the mark, it could be anything from another freighter to a small Corvette or Cruiser, but I'd guess the scans will be passive; they won't want to be detected just as much as me."

'_As far as the mark…'_- _The_ _mark_ was a smugglers' term, referring to the party to be fooled. For smugglers, the mark was generally Imperial Customs and Excise - hardly the term an Imperial Commander would generally use then - or those he would need to hide from. "Where will it be?" Karrde asked casually; it was worth a try.

"I'll send someone to pick them up at Obroa-Skai. I'll supply my own crews, so you'll need to send a transport to get your people off."

Not terribly informative; Obroa-Skai was a huge port-cum-shipyard with hundreds of transports arriving and departing every day. The Commander obviously intended for his freighters to simply get lost in the crush. "I generally like to leave a few of my own people onboard, just as insurance." Karrde mentioned, "Bulk-freighters are extremely expensive items- especially retro-fitted with that much technology."

The Commander only smiled, "Not a chance." He refused point-blank, but there was humour in is tone, as if he'd expected no less from Karrde "If I don't bring them back you know where to come and find me."

"Then I'll have to double the deposit."

"Whatever. Triple it if it helps you sleep at night."

It was, Karrde had learned, very difficult to argue with someone for whom credit was no object; one had very little leverage. Again, The Commander pushed on before the smuggler could query further.

"I'll need contact frequencies and ship blueprints two weeks from now. Send them through the usual channels, with your fees. I'll transfer the credit within three days." He paused, considering; "Do you have any Bothans or Chadra-Fan in your workforce at the moment?"

Karrde raised his eyebrows, "Probably- why?"

"How many?"

The, heavy-set smuggler shifted just slightly, not in the least offended when his question was ignored; he would have done the same. "Perhaps a dozen or so Bothans; half that of Chadra-Fan. I'm not certain." Perhaps the difference between the two amounts would draw out which he was really interested in, since clearly it would only be one group; the other would be a misdirection.

"Can they crew your ships?"

"I suppose so- not alone, obviously."

"Use them - tell them they're to stay with the freighters and follow my command." Before Karrde could speak, the Commander added, "Bill me. You can take it off the double-deposit since you'll have crew-members onboard."

He grinned, looking very young in that moment, "Look at it this way Karrde; not only will you get to keep an eye on your precious freighters, you'll have an eyewitness account of what went on." Again, he smiled; "Obviously, we'll be disabling any trackers or transmitters you place in the freighters' systems."

"As if I would." Karrde smiled. That was the thing about the Commander; he _expected_ professional subterfuge- he didn't take it personally.

"Did you find my infiltration specialist?"

For a second, even Karrde was thrown by the sudden change in subject, but then it was par for the course from the Commander, who wasn't one for small-talk. " 'Assassin' was the word in the comm I received." Karrde corrected, and the Commander made the slightest of gestures in acknowledgement.

"I presume you have a score to settle." Karrde said, glancing only momentarily to the deep scar which ran from beside the Commander's eye down over his cheek and through his lips. He'd tried hard not to stare when he'd entered the room, the first time he'd seen the Commander since the hushed-up assassination attempt. But the severity of the scar was hard to ignore, as was the dark slice which discoloured his right iris, mismatching his normally pale eyes, and to do so felt more forced than to actually look, when he knew that one of the things which had cemented their… _association_ was his own innate, upfront honesty - again, something of the exception in his line of work.

The Commander glanced down, unwilling to be drawn. Chances were that by now he knew who was responsible, Karrde knew, though unlike Vader, he wouldn't simply strike out in a rage. His response would be more measured; more calculating... like the Emperor he was so clearly being groomed to succeed.

"You know I don't work like that." The Commander corrected easily, unoffended.

"I have two mercenaries," Karrde said, "Both of whom have infiltrated the Alliance before."

"Neither of whom have any traceable connections to you?"

"None."

"And they wouldn't be recognised?"

"Not as long as they weren't required to interact with the same beings- they weren't caught last time. May I ask what the job is - aside from an assassination - and where?"

"It's onboard the Rebel Flagship, Home-One. I need to remove the Comm Chief, named Leemarit."

"May I ask why?"

While he genuinely liked Karrde, maybe even trusted him to a certain degree, Luke knew that both had their limits. His Master had illustrated time and again that knowledge was power, and no matter how much he trusted the mercenary, if Palpatine or Vader were to get hold of him then Luke didn't want to find himself on the receiving end of another lesson.  
So he considered for a moment, then offered something which would corroborate the story he eventually intended to tell the Emperor, "He crossed me- I don't take well to that."

"So I've heard." Karrde said mildly, taking another sip of the bitter-sweet brandy, studying the Commander's scarred features. Was he telling the truth? He'd told Karrde just minutes ago that he didn't indulge in empty vendettas, so was this something more- or had he been lying first time and _this_ was the truth? It was always difficult to tell. Karrde got the distinct feling that sometimes he lied for good reasons and sometimes just on principle, like a sabacc player keeping his opponents guessing, but he'd also noticed that ccasionally the Commander told the truth as a kind of double-bluff - or made a double-bluff of the truth.  
He made a mental note never to play the Commander at sabacc- then dismissed it as hardly the kind of game that a future Emperor would lower himself to.

But then, infiltration and spying hardly seemed fitting pastimes for a future Emperor either - not in person - and though nobody had any proof, Karrde had it on good authority that the Commander had done both. Within the Alliance, no less… which dovetailed quite conveniently with his present target… "Did he cross you in person?" he asked casually, eyes on his glass.

"What?" The Commander frowned.

"I just wondered how the Commander of the Core Fleet would know a Rebel Comm Chief."

"You'd be surprised who I know, Karrde." Luke dismissed, knowing it was what the smuggler chief wanted to hear, pushing the conversation on before Karrde could delve any further, "Which would you recommend now you know the job?"

The younger man also wasn't above taking advice if he thought it would serve him, Karrde had noted that too; something very rare indeed in a man of his rank. "Probably the Malastarian, named Issig, but he's not cheap."

"Immaterial." The Commander dismissed out of hand, reminding Karrde whom he was dealing with, "What do you know about him?"

Karrde shrugged, curious at the question- it wasn't something the Commander would generally bother to ask. "He's reliable. He'll get the job done."

"Do you trust him?" Another strange question coming from the Commander, who trusted practically nobody, and certainly wouldn't trust based on someone else's perceptions.

"Trust?" Karrde pushed.

"Like, I suppose."

Now that really _was_ odd. "Not particularly- Why?"

"Because if he takes the job, it'll kill him."

Karrde missed a single beat, then; "Yes- the message mentioned that. Perhaps he's better than you think."

The Commander tilted his head, voice emotionless, "I sincerely hope not. I'll be handing him over to them and I'd rather he didn't make a last-minute escape. I don't particularly want them to catch him alive either, but just in case, I need him to be primed with certain information."

Interesting- though it did explain to Karrde one thing; "Which is why you're using a go-between."

The Commander paused just slightly before allowing Karrde some glimpse at the greater plan, "The ideal would be to use an Imperial agent, but in this instance I can't. I need to remain unconnected to the death for a few weeks - after that it doesn't matter. If you have a problem with providing someone on these terms…"

"No." Karrde considered a moment, knowing that the offer of a get-out was genuine and he wouldn't be judged for choosing to take it. It wasn't generally the kind of thing he got mixed up in, handing out jobs with a foregone conclusion, but in his line of work one always knew a few beings who had played both sides to the center once too often and deserved this special kind of skewed justice; "But I'd like to use someone else, if I may?"

"If he's capable- I still need a clean kill before I hand him over- timing is important."

"Yes, I think so, particularly if the target is unaware. I'm sure in fact."

A short silence ensued, but the Commander just couldn't help himself, setting his head slightly to one side, a dry smile tilting the edges of his scarred lips, "What - does he owe you currency?"

Karrde smiled sardonically, "Perhaps I owe him."

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**CHAPTER TWELVE**

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The Peerless came out of hyperspace just clear of Coruscant's gravity, manoeuvring her massive bulk into a military shipping lane with graceful precision, the Dauntless, the Fury and the Dominant following close behind.

On the bridge, Mara stood close to the Commander, who remained statue-still before the span of the main viewport, the glistening jewel of Coruscant's night-side as The Peerless took up geostationary orbit changing his expression not a whit.

He had, she knew, greater things on his mind.

He had been summoned to Coruscant by the Emperor's personal command - not that anyone else could order him anyway, but it was rare that the wording of a summons to Skywalker included the statement, "By the Emperor's Command-"

Luke had been released from Coruscant by the Emperor only eight weeks earlier, and had immediately ordered so convoluted-a course for the Peerless that it was instantly clear that he'd had his destinations planned for some time.

He had, of course, sought prior permission from his Master to use any means in his power to find those who had aided and abetted his attempted assassination, but Mara knew that Palpatine hadn't anticipated this response. Luke had begun hounding the Bothans almost as soon as he'd left orbit, the first raid by the 701st having already taken place by the time the Peerless exited from her first hyperspace jump at Corulag. This was a carefully orchestrated, premeditated plan and it seemed to be gaining momentum. In fact, Mara couldn't quite shake the hunch that she was looking at the tip of the iceberg…

She got the distinct impression that Skywalker was deriving a certain satisfaction from putting a light under the Alliance then standing back to watch the ensuing fireworks.

And Palpatine had encouraged it of course, referring to it as putting his Wolf among the herd.

Still, even he had started to grow a little edgy at this very specific, unrelenting operation, curious to know what exactly was going on in his feral Jedi's head. Because Skywalker certainly wasn't admitting anything out loud - which usually equated to his skirting the very edge of what he knew would be acceptable to his Master…  
So Mara could well understand the Commander's edginess today. He had been recalled without further explanation to Coruscant and it was pretty clear that he was expected to provide some kind of justification of his actions when he arrived. Palpatine always maintained a deliberate lack of continuity or predictability in his dealings with Skywalker, sustaining the wary trepidation he held for his Master. But as much as Palpatine had learned the most effective way to keep his wayward Jedi off-balance in the last three years, Skywalker had also learned the best method of dealing with his Master, Mara noted. He spent his life now steering the fine course between what could easily be considered excessive, unwarranted disobedience and what his Master may categorise as the kind of blatant, fascinatingly wilful insubordination which occasionally but not always, bought immunity from Palpatine's wrath- sometimes under the most outrageous circumstances.

It had become more and more a game of wits and will between them, and Skywalker's sudden burst of motivation following his assassination attempt had upped the ante once again, Mara knew. Of course, any genuine dissent or defiance would be met with the most severe, implacable force, requiring days or even weeks to recover, but eventually Skywalker had learned the rules of the game and remained forever just within the bounds of acceptable behaviour. The plain truth however, was that this alone wouldn't protect him from his Master's wrath if Palpatine believed Luke was challenging him, and even Mara, who had known the Emperor far longer than Luke, had no idea how he was going to take this, which made whatever the hell Skywalker was implementing right now that much more of a gamble and he knew it.

A Lieutenant walked quickly up to Skywalker and saluted smartly, catching Mara's eye simply because he was around the same age as Luke- very few people who had risen to serve onboard the Peerless were so young. "Sir- Chancellor Amedda sends official greetings and requests a projected arrival time."

Luke turned just slightly, "Acknowledge and send a reply. Fastest course by Shuttle."

The Lieutenant was snapping his heels in response when a second message was forwarded to his autoreader.

"Sir, The Emperor commands you to an immediate private audience." he said, looking up, no concept of what this really meant. It was, to most of the people on the Bridge, an accolade rather than a threat. Mara glanced at Skywalker, whose expression remained neutral.

The silence hung expectant, the young Lieutenant unsure what to do, waiting for some reply. When the Commander turned to exit the bridge, the Lieutenant spoke out, "Sir- may I send a response?"

"No." The Commander replied simply without turning.

Mara looked with trepidation from the closed turbolift doors to the Lieutenant, aware that Luke would be expected to reply to any message from the Emperor immediately, any delay a message in itself. she let out her breath in a slow sigh, which did nothing to ease her nerves. The game was on.

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"You are of course, kiddin' me?" Han prompted, stopping dead in the corridor, so that Leia was three or four steps forward before she realised and turned about and Chewie, who had been behind Han, ploughed into him with a startled grunt.

Leia glanced back at the Wookie and the two shared a long-suffering glance before she looked back to Han, "Why would I be kidding you?"

"Because…. seriously - you need me to tell you?!" Han exclaimed, "I'm just.. I'm… speechless."

Leia set one hand on the curve of her hip, "That'll be the day, Solo."

Chewie gave a short guffaw at that, then turned to look innocently up at the ceiling as Han glanced back.

"Hey, since I'm the only one around here who ever talks any sense. Not surprisingly, I feel it my duty to keep talkin'." Han maintained, a picture of indignant, injured pride.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I told you weeks ago that Mon had decided to meet up with Olin'yaa and… what did you say?" Leia set her head to one side in mock consideration, but when Han wouldn't be drawn, she feigned remembering, "Oh that's right you said - and I quote - 'Well it's about time'."

Seeing Chewie nodding from the corner of his eye, Han turned on his friend, tone wounded, "Would you stop backing her up?!"

The Wookie keened a reply, grinning to show sharp, white teeth.

"That was _before_ I knew where they were holding the meeting!" Han defended.

Chewie shrugged slightly, ruffing a considered reply. Han grasped at it with both hands, turning back to Leia, "See! Even Chewie thinks it's a bad idea!"

"He didn't say bad, he said '_not ideal'_." Leia countered, three years' company with the Wookie beginning to rub off, "And sometimes we just have to do things anyway, whether they're ideal or not."

"But Bothawuii?" Han said, still incredulous, "At least persuade her to choose somewhere that's even halfway safe."

"It has to be Bothawuii Han- you know that. Mon can't afford to seem afraid to ally herself with them, especially now, when they're paying for our choices. We need to send a message of unity, not hesitation - that we'll support them under any circumstances. We'll be as careful as we can."

_We_, not _she_. Just when, Han reflected, had Leia become involved in this, 'cos all of a sudden she was in the task force heading out there. "But Bothawuii!? Why not just go to Coruscant and have done with it - hell, why not just camp out on the steps to the Palace."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what Bothawuii's main export is?" Han challenged, "Information; Intelligence. You're about to put the leader of the Alliance on a planet that sells secrets for a living. To both sides, I hasten to add. All you need is for _one_ Bothan in Olin'yaa's camp to be a double agent and…"

"We're well aware of that." Leia said grimly.

"Well then don't do it! Am I the only one here who realises what a phenomenally bad idea this is?" He couldn't believe it- he just couldn't believe they were actually going to do this. The trouble with this place, Han knew, was that everyone went round all googly-eyed; they'd spent so long spouting all that stuff about trust and honour that they'd actually begun to believe it! It was all very well trying to live up to your principles, but that didn't mean you should assume that anybody else out there would feel under the slightest obligation to do the same.

"We have to do this, Han- we have to show that we're not afraid and that we'll stand by the Bothans no matter what."

"Can't we do that from Ammuud?" Han asked, the furthest planet he could name from the top of his head.

Leia smiled now, amused by Han's tenacious exasperation, leaning forward to kiss him on the chin - as high as she could reach when he was adamantly refusing to be mollified. "Relax, flyboy- you get to watch our back. We're taking Red, Blue and Gold wings on two Cutters."

"Great- two Cutters and three combat wings. That'll stop a Super Star Destroyer." Han said dryly.

"We'll be far more likely to just be able to slip in and out with the Arcturus and the Sol, rigged as Merchant Vessels." Leia assured of the small, fast cutters, each carrying only a hundred or so crew. "The Bothans have provided us with ID's and permits for comparable vessels which do the Bothawuii to Farlax run regularly."

"The Bothans _know_ already!?" Han was incredulous, "Just… please - for me - at least move the venue."

Leia turned and started up the corridor again, Han trailing after her, Chewie patting him companionably on the back hard enough to make him stagger forward a step.

"The venue will be moved with a couple of hours to go- the Bothans don't know that yet. Only Mon, Madine, Massa and I know where. Happy now?"

"No" Han griped, "Just…marginally less unhappy. Where are you moving it to?"

"I'll tell you on the day." Leia teased.

"What- don't you trust me?" Han affected his most offended air, drawing level to the diminutive Princess to give her the full benefit.

Leia smiled primly, not in the least moved. "Well you _are_ a smuggler, Solo."

"Yeah, but look how cute I am!"

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.

Luke flew the small one-man Interat-TIE at breakneck speed through the upper atmosphere, piling on more power, pushing up the G's so that even he was beginning to feel the pressure. The tiny, nimble craft, little more than a cramped cockpit between two huge air intakes and a complex series of stabiliser fins to compensate for the fierce propulsion system which threw it forward at formidable speeds, had become his fighter of choice.

Tighter in the turn than an X-Wing and faster on the straight than an A-Wing it demanded a great deal of its pilot, but these days Luke flew only when he needed a distraction, so its temperamental nature appealed. It was the fastest thing in the Imperial fleet, and the newest; only four wings existed, two on the Peerless and two on the Executor, leading Luke to wonder briefly whether his father had flown one yet. Probably; like Luke, he flew a TIE Interceptor in space, but they were near-useless in gravity dogfights, where the swift A-Wing and the agile X-Wing still ruled supreme. Designed specifically to fill this gap they would, Luke knew, appeal as much to his father as they did to him. It had after all, been his father who had kept pace with him when he'd hurtled down the cramped Death Star trench at suicidal speeds, Vader jockeying for the perfect kill as Luke had been juking his X-Wing to avoid presenting just that.

The Interat-Tie chose that moment to do a little juking of its own as it hit an air pocket which almost wrenched the stick from Luke's hand.

Chiding himself for not paying attention, Luke eased the erratic craft back under control as Coruscant's surface loomed, shipping lanes becoming visible now. The comm panel flickered briefly to indicate that the ship was communicating with Flight Control, then a series of circles lit the heads-up display, forming a virtual corridor in space high above the civilian flight paths. Luke fell into the near-empty military shipping lane, twisting the stick on impulse so that the I-TIE corkscrewed neatly upside-down, long clear canopy facing the planet's surface, leaving him dangling in his acceleration harness, looking at the world 'above' him, the diplomatic shuttle in which he was supposed to be travelling to the Palace disappearing from his line of view.

No-one had even flinched anymore in the docking bay of the Peerless as Luke had simply strode past the Lambda shuttle and up to the Fighter escort nearby. Reece was never happy when the Commander-in-Chief of the Core Fleet decided to take a jaunt in a one-man fighter - and an unpredictable one at that - but he'd learnt that this was just a method of letting off steam and didn't even utter a word. Nor did the fighter pilot, who simply stepped aside as Luke had neared, politely holding out his flight helmet. Mara Jade was less cooperative- in fact she was already heading to the next fighter when Luke took a long step back and into her path.

His voice was quiet when he spoke, but firm and resolute, "_Don't_ follow me. I don't need a wingman and I don't want company."

She arched her eyebrows at him, tilting her head, "I think I'd already figured that out on both counts." she replied dryly, "But I've still got a job to do."

Luke remained in her path, but she only set her hand on one hip, a sure sign that she wasn't about to back down on this one, Luke knew.

"Look," she took a half-step forward, keeping her own voice low enough that only he would hear, "We can bicker and argue about it and keep everyone standing around uncomfortably and trying not to stare for the next hour if you want, at the end of which, short of you knocking me unconscious, I'll still get into that fighter and follow you down, otherwise the Emperor will want to know why. So why don't we just cut out the pudu and set off now?"

Luke stared at her for long seconds, aware that she had pulled her trump card; the trouble in letting people get close to you was that you got close to them too, an unwanted complication when he knew that if he stopped her from following him, then he would be putting her in all kinds of trouble. But the trick of dealing with a problem was to turn it to one's advantage.

"Fine- you want to come? Keep up."

He turned before she could reply and climbed the three short steps to the cockpit. Mara watched him suspiciously for a few seconds, then realised what he was about to do and sprinted for the next I-TIE.

Luke's fighter took off out of the docking bay like a spooked ronto, Mara only just stepping into her cockpit as the backwash from its engines blustered through her hair. Cursing, she dropped the canopy and set off after him, her helmet still in her lap. Reece, who had watched the distant argument with only mild interest, but enough to guess at what had been said, turned back to the shuttle and set off up the ramp.

"Like she has a chance." He murmured to himself as he boarded.

.

It took Luke only minutes to lose Mara. She was a good pilot and she had nerves of steel, but she was well behind and it wasn't her forte. Against an ex-Wing Commander with natural aptitude and the kind of edge honed in battle conditions, she couldn't compete. Luke pushed the tiny fighter to its limits, taking the shortest path over the Dauntless, which hung between the Peerless and Coruscant, throwing sharp loops and tight twists about radar towers and external emplacements as he skimmed the surface, proximity alarms blaring in his helmet, the fighter buffeting as it skimmed the destroyers' navigation shields.  
By the time he levelled up to hit the correct shear for atmospheric entry, she was practically off his combat scope, and he had to extend its range to locate her.

She'd catch up of course - she really wasn't a bad pilot, she just wasn't a combat pilot - and Luke had every intention of making sure that they landed on the Palace roof together. He just wanted to know whether she'd admit to Palpatine that she'd lost him for a while, knowing that Luke would do no such thing.

Now he eased back, aware that they were nearing the Capital, rolling the ship in a neat quarter-turn to squint into the evening sky above him, looking for her. Frowning, he reached out, casting a wide net of perception within the Force…

And flinched before the massed consciousness of the thousands of people below him.

Thousands of people…

He straightened the craft slowly, somehow strangely fascinated by that- by ordinary people, living ordinary lives… He couldn't remember anymore what that was like. Had he ever really known?

Slowing further, he dropped the I-TIE into civilian shipping lanes, the sleek lines of the powerful, cutting-edge fighter at odds with its more sedate companions now.

All those minds… How did they live their lives so blindly?

On impulse he closed his eyes, closed down his contact with the Force… and let go of the stick. Reaching out without opening his eyes, he ran his fingers over the familiar controls and flipped the breakers for the shields.

Blind, he relaxed his shoulders and gave the moment over to fate-

He felt… absolutely calm, listening to his own slow breathing, aware of the fighter gradually banking to one side, his weight leaning heavy in the acceleration harness…

If he just stayed like this… then all of his problems would be gone, he knew. The weight pressing down on him would be lifted and he would fall into the blackness of oblivion. No more Emperor, no more plans and deceptions, wheels within wheels and lies within lies- Palpatine's and his own. It had become so hard, just to hold against the storm.

He didn't recognise himself anymore… didn't like what he saw in his place.

And it would be so easy… just stay like this - just close his eyes and let fate rush in…

A pacific calm came over him at that, at the knowledge that it could all be gone in an instant if he could just let go- stop struggling to survive, to change things, to prevail. Stop trying to take responsibility for everything- let someone else fight this fight…  
The harness dug at his shoulders, the shadows playing over closed eyelids as the ship turned unheeded…

Seconds now… how could it be more…

…_relax_…

_._

"_LUKE!!"_

His hand twitched involuntarily to the stick in the last possible second, wrenching the I-TIE down in a twisting corkscrew which pulled it just clear of the massive oncoming transport, close enough that he sheared off the short induction antennae from its hull, Mara still yelling in his headset, her voice wild and panicked and angry all at once.

"What the hell are you doing!? Are your stabilisers out? Do you have a malfunction? Can you hear me? Luke? Luke?!"

"I'm fine." he said simply, voice composed and neutral, as if nothing at all had happened.

"What were you _doing_?" Mara repeated, still almost shouting.

"I was waiting for you." He replied easily.

"You were almost upside down heading into an oncoming shipping lane!" She couldn't believe what she'd just seen - what was he thinking? What was he _doing_!!

"Really?" he said blandly, not at all concerned, "Then it's a good job you got here."

"I… are you…" Mara struggled to pull a coherent thought together against the burst of adrenaline-laced fear that had gripped her when she'd seen his craft freefalling.

His voice cut through her shocked stumble, still laced with that unruffled, strangely detached calm, "We should pull up into military shipping lanes- we'll be in Palace airspace any time now." He paused just slightly, mind completely back on track, wishing to be sure that his next remark sunk in, "They won't have picked us up yet- we should go in together."

He pulled up into the military flight corridor, slowing further as Mara took up wing position, waiting for the comm to request ID's as they neared the restricted airspace around the Palace.

Mara went through the motions on mental autopilot, her heart pounding against her ribs, breath short, mind racing with the buzz of adrenalin, only slowly receeding at the sound of Luke's voice... still trying to figure out what the hell she'd just seen…


	10. Chapter 10

The Emperor's Throne Room actually consisted of a sumptuous suite of grand chambers with a huge counterweighted system of sliding, gilded partition walls running either side of its length which could open the divisions into a single immense, imposing space or divide it off into a series of private audience chambers to the sides of the main chamber, their use generally inferring some kind of endorsement or favor if one was received within, the individual required to traverse the processional through the incredibly opulent Throne Room itself, under the watchful eye of all those attending Court.

Luke had walked impassively through the main processional, unmoved by the jealous eyes on him; most of his audiences with his Master were in private and despite common opinion, they had never, in his experience, inferred anything other than the fact that the Emperor was playing his games on a larger scale, everyone involved, whether they wished it or not.

He reflected as he reached the carved stone dais, pausing to bow before his Master prior to continuing on to the private ante-chamber to the side of the impressive space, that it had always seemed strange that the Throne Room had no windows as such, only three tall, narrow slits in the feet-thick walls to either side of the dais, their limited size allowing only the tiniest of slivers of daylight without giving any view of the Empire beyond. Two small circular skylights at roof level projected perfect discs which trailed across the pale circle of marble set into the Throne Room floor beneath the throne, their cast fading from bright, dazzling white to blazing sunset red as day turned to night, but they too gave no view of the city beyond.

But then Palpatine had always looked inward, never out to his Empire. Hard-earned experience of his Master's perspective had afforded Luke the knowledge that his interest in ruling was in the power he personally wielded rather than the Empire he controlled, his fascination in dominating and manipulating the individual. If he had bothered to look out to his Empire more often, he might realize how it groaned beneath the oppressive weight of heavy governing, greedy taxes and unwarranted restrictions- might see how this could fire revolt and feed rebellion.

But he didn't care to look. Didn't care.

It would be his undoing, his lack of compassion. That which had made him willing to pay any price to gain power would one day bring him low. His greed and his self-serving conceit and his blind arrogance.

The tall gilded partition slid smoothly aside as Luke entered the empty stillness of the ante-room, closing soundlessly behind him, the lights in the chamber raising to a subtle radiance which made the sliding panels glow luminous in the low light, their precious-metal surface intricately etched and enamelled with an interlocking rendition of the Core Systems.

The incredible, priceless panels ran floor to ceiling to either side of the entire length of the main Throne Room, each depicting separate sectors of Imperial Space- 'lest the Emperor forget what he owned, Luke supposed dryly.

Aware that he would have a long wait, divided and hidden from Court now, Luke studied the enamelled panel as he had done so many times before in the extravagant opulence of the high, gilded-ceiling chamber, his back to the empty throne within, the only item in the long ante-room. Lost in his thoughts, Luke studied the elaborate artistry, appreciating again the talent and expertise of the craftsmen who had realized it.

Trying not to think about how in the galaxy a kid from Tatooine had come to be stood here, on Coruscant, in the Imperial Palace, in the private chamber of the ruler of the Empire…

Wondering which panel depicted his homeworld of Tatooine as some tiny, insignificant little dustball circling fierce, binary suns. It had never occurred to him to look before.

Now he was driven by an intense pang of desire to track it down; for what he didn't know; it was only a mark on a map, and an inaccurate, inventive rendition at that- but the longing to find it in that moment was all-consuming. To just… touch that point on the elaborate star charts… To touch home- to touch innocence; integrity… or as close as he would ever come again.

But regret bought nothing here and guilt was simply a weakness to be exploited in his Master's eyes- he'd learned that long ago. He resolutely turned his back on the map and stared without seeing at the throne, waiting for his Master, aware of the buzzing pressure in the back of his mind which signalled Palpatine's close presence.  
The momentary freedom afforded by the massed anonymity of the Capital beyond was lost to him now, the restless, rueful mind-games he allowed himself when hidden by it's densely-concentrated populace forbidden. He could afford no misgivings before Palpatine, no fractures in his shields.

He had an agenda, and while he didn't expect to forward it today beneath his Master's desire to re-establish authority over his wayward advocate, then he knew better than to lower his defences. As long as he kept his head and was suitably contrite - and had the lure of a greater incentive to distract and cloud the issue - then some degree of success was attainable.

Today was simply laying the groundwork… and paying the price. It was the instigation of a reworking of boundaries, both mental and physical - and there was always a price to be paid for that, he knew. It was, as ever, simply a question of how much.

He took a deep, calm breath and went again through the mental discipline of putting all the thoughts and doubts he held carefully away behind mental shields. There was to be no weakness here - not before for his Master's harsh scrutiny.

And so he remained, stood to loose attention in the opulent, airless room, his feet set apart, his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring the grating, nagging pain this instilled deep in his left shoulder even months after his recovery. The overshadowing presence of his Master cloyed his mind from this close, though he sensed nothing specific in it, neither anger nor tolerance, all intent hidden walls within walls; a mirror of his own mind when in the Emperor's presence- they both played these games too well.

Still he waited, aware that this too was part of his Master's intent; to set him on edge and give time for his thoughts to wander.

Minutes turned into hours and he waited, head down, eyes closed…

.

He was roused from his reverie by the smooth slide of the massive etched-metal panels, the mechanism almost silent. He didn't turn as his Master entered, the whisper of heavy robes over marble floors sending a momentary twist of foreboding up his spine at the still-intense memories of too many days and nights caged in the cells far below the Palace, when the entrance of his Master to the cell marked the beginning of yet another cycle of torment and pain.

Palpatine walked the length of the long room in silence, aware of the brief instant of panic which his feral Jedi quickly quashed, a sure sign that he was guilty of something, even if Palpatine didn't know what yet. It was rare indeed that the boy allowed even a sliver of emotion to show through his impenetrable shields aside from that steadfast resolve not to be intimidated.

He had called his Jedi here to answer for his curious actions against the Bothans… but perhaps there were deeper issues to be exposed.

The Emperor took the final two steps onto the low, raised dais and settled on his throne before looking to his Jedi as the boy knelt quietly before his Master, eyes down.

They remained like this for long seconds, Palpatine waiting for the boy to crack and ask why he was here- but he had regained control of his emotions and was clearly willing to wait his Master out in silence, one knee to the ground, his arm resting on the other, head down.

Palpatine settled again, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. "Why are you here?" he said at last, tone long-suffering and exasperated.

"Because you summoned me, Master." The boy replied smoothly, nothing revealed.

"And why would I need to do that?" Palpatine prompted, and watched his Jedi pause just slightly, weighing up the consequences of continuing to prevaricate for no other reason than his own stubbornness.

"I'm sure you have your reasons." Skywalker said at last, eyes still to the floor.

Luke kept his head down, chiding himself for continuing to defy simply because he resented the condescending, self-righteous tone in his Master's voice. He'd come to validate his actions against the Bothans and to gain permission to go after the Rebellion. He wouldn't get that by digging his heels in - he'd be lucky to get it at all.

Ordering himself to back down, he stood, lifting his eyes to the Emperor, arranging a penitent expression on his face.

Palpatine narrowed his eyes; the boy would have a reason for everything that he had done, he knew that; he wasn't in the habit of simply lashing out to ease his frustration as his father was wont to do. If he pursued an action this relentlessly then there was some logic to it even though such facts had been pointedly left off the notably few official reports which had been sent from the Peerless in the last few months.

Again Palpatine resettled his weight, lounging comfortably in the chair, subtle messages even in this, before finally launching the inevitable game, the tone of hiss gravelly voice hovering somewhere between annoyance and exasperation; "What are you doing?"

It was tempting to claim he was simply standing before his Master, but Luke bit down the sarcasm and made a direct reply.

"What my father seems incapable of." Luke said simply, "Removing those who present a threat to your Empire."

"Really? Yet my Empire seems to have stumbled along with only your father's service for the last two decades." Palpatine's reedy voice was hard and dry, making Luke aware of just how fine-a line he was walking right now. He needed to diffuse this, and quickly.

"Command me, and I'll stop." He said, knowing Palpatine would call his bluff which was, at this point, irrelevant. He was already prepared to concede; it had served it purpose, its only further value to forfeit as a appeasement.

"Stop attacking the Bothans." Palpatine said immediately.

"As you wish, Master." Luke bowed his head just slightly in acquiescence, the perfect advocate.

Again Palpatine fell to wary silence and Luke didn't need to look up to know that he was suspected of manipulation, but he lifted his eyes to meet his Masters, trying to keep his expression if not his mind as open as possible, hoping to satiate his Master's anger enough that he was prepared to listen.

"Why them?" Palpatine asked, voice low.

Luke suppressed any trace of satisfaction, "It wasn't arbitrary, Master. I had a goal - and it was successful."

Palpatine stared at him for a long time, hard ochre eyes glinting beneath the folds of the heavy black hood and cowl he wore. Luke forced himself to meet that gaze; not to blink before it…

After long seconds, reminding himself again of his true goals here, Luke glanced away, averting his eyes. The silence hung heavy in the soulless extravagance of the magnificent room, Luke _willing_ his Master to ask…

But Palpatine was not so easily led.

"The Bothans provide a great deal of information to Black Sun." His Master said, ignoring Luke's claim of success.

"They also provide a great deal of information to the Rebellion. I chose my marks with care."

His Master sat back considering, not even nearly willing to let this go as yet. "You asked for wide-ranging permissions knowing the specific action you intended to take."

"I asked for authorization to go after my attackers, which you gave, within the bounds of my jurisdicton- this was simply the first step. It was a means to an end."

And there it was again, Palpatine noted; that same blurring of the lines that the boy always used to hedge around the edges of disobeying, the same justification he so often applied to his Master's orders to bend them to his own needs. Skywalker stood tall and straight, hands clasped behind his back- not nearly as confident as he seemed, Palpatine knew, but at least as determined not to be intimidated. The Emperor brought a sallow, wasted hand to his mouth, to hide the slight smile, suddenly indulgent of his Wolf's composure, his coolness under fire.

"And what do you have to show for your efforts?"

It was, Palpatine knew, exactly what the boy had wanted him to ask and he looked up, eyes alight. "The location of Mon Mothma. Guaranteed- a specific day, an exact time."

Palpatine leaned forward just slightly, drawn in, the game of wits forgotten. "Guaranteed?"

"Mothma brokered the deal between the Bothans and the Rebellion herself." Still angling for permissions, Luke offered this piece of information openly to underline both his commitment to Palpatine and his inside knowledge of the Rebellion; the only two cards he could play to force his Master's hand. "She'll go personally to Bothawuii to reassure them- firstly because she feels responsible, and secondly because they're part of her own power base. _That's_ why I pursued the Bothans- to draw her out. To force her actions."

Palpatine considered, pale, waxen finger rubbing against thin lips, "And you know when she will be there."

"To the hour. I even know that the venue will be changed shortly before the meeting. Give me permission to take a task force out to Bothawuii and I'll bring her to you - that's all I ask."

Palpatine brought his eyes to the boy again, a subtle tendril of the Force to reaching out to search... He could _feel_ his desperate desire to gain this permission- and he knew exactly why his Wolf thought he wouldn't get it. "Bothawuii is in the Rim Regions…"

"Vader won't catch her- he doesn't _know_ the Rebels like I do."

"Then tell him."

Luke shook his head, not yet willing to let this go. "The situation will be too fluid. I know their procedures. I know their Commanders. I know their weaknesses. It _has_ to be me."

"It _has_ to be?" Palpatine repeated, amused.

"I'm _asking_ for permission."

Palpatine didn't miss the insinuation; that at least his Wolf was _asking_, not just twisting his Masters' previous consent to go after his assassins, stretching it to imply permission to leave the Core Regions in pursuit. That would be a step too far and he knew it - not even returning with Mothma would buy him immunity from Palpatine's rage if he disobeyed to that degree. Palpatine settled back again, eyes on his Jedi, who held his breath in anticipation…

The boy had invested considerable time and commitment in this; where was the harm in letting him take down his aggressor in person? It was after all what Palpatine had originally hoped; that he could incite Skywalker to turn on his previous allies. Now the boy was trying to make that very show of commitment, Palpatine knew, and an undeniably valuable one at that… and the fact that he had achieved this in less than three months, the last month with limited Intelligence, due to the silence of Leemarit…

The Emperor's eyes narrowed as a sudden realisation occurred, "How do you _know_ when she will be there?"

Luke paused, mind racing at the unexpected question and the tone in his Master's voice- what did Palpatine know? Was he digging for information or laying a trap? _Answer! Quickly!_

"Intelligence, Master." Luke gave the vague reply dismissively, as if curious that Palpatine would even bother to ask, hoping to draw his Master on without closer scrutiny, though he didn't yet know why that tightened his throat in apprehahsion, "There are…"

"Your last Bothan prisoners were taken onboard the Peerless ten days ago…" Palpatine spoke across him, tone cooling.

_Veers!_ Luke bit back the frustration. He'd worked hard to hide the specifics of various capture dates from prying eyes, constantly moving and re-splitting the Bothan prisoners, dividing and recombining them again and again so that no-one had the complete picture. Except perhaps Mara, whom he'd taken great care to keep busy… and Veers, who was the only other person onboard the Peerless with high enough rank to afford some overview.

The Emperor set his head to one side, manner increasingly dangerous. "Yet there have been no transmissions to Intel from my Rebel spy Leemarit for a month… If you had Mothma's guaranteed decision a month ago then continuing to harry insignificant Bothan minions seems… uncommonly wasteful. Uncharacteristically so, one might say. If you did not, then I am moved to wonder where your recent information regarding Mothma's decision came from. Your explanation?"

The question blaring in Luke's mind now was, did his Master already know of Luke's removal of Leemarit and this was all simply a trap being laid, or was this an educated guess? As far as Luke knew, Karrde's assassin had fulfilled his brief to kill Leemarit and been killed making good his escape – hardly surprising since Luke himself had contacted the Rebels to hand over the man's identity. It had been, from beginning to end, a textbook operation… as far as Luke knew.

Suddenly, with Veer's unanticipated interference, the issue of whether or not Luke would be allowed to go after Mon Mothma had become secondary… whether or not he spent the following weeks in a cell, subjected to Palpatine's vindictive 'chastisement' had become the relevant issue. The Emperor tolerated a great deal from his wayward protégé, but lies to his Master were the ultimate offence and were always met with the harshest punishment.

Luke's thoughts reeled, though he kept his face a mask and forced his mind to work: he could of course claim that the staggered series of arrests were to keep up the steady pressure- to ensure Mothma's continued intent. He could even claim some implacable, vindictive drive; revenge on any and all detractors involved in his attack. But if Palpatine already _knew_ the truth, either one would be a direct lie- to his Master's face.  
The alternative then, was to tell the truth - or as near to the truth as the situation allowed. The absolute truth was that he was serving his long-term strategy- looking to the greater plan. Whilst a spy belonging to his Master in any other position within the Rebellion would be an acceptable risk, Leemarit was the Communications Chief aboard the Rebel flagship and Luke's continued involvement with those onboard in handing over information, however unsympathetically, would result in an extended spell of 'correction' if his Master found out. Which there was a good chance of if the Comm Chief - the being who monitored all ingoing and outgoing comms - happened to be Palpatine's spy. It would be literally years before Palpatine would trust Luke again- before he would even let his precious Jedi out of his sight.

No; having finally found out the name of Palpatine's spy, he'd had to remove Leemarit as soon as possible, his access to all comms – those Luke sent to the Rebels and those Argot sent to him – was simply too dangerous to be allowed to continue.

His chosen course of action in having Leemarit assassinated then revealing the assassin - carefully timed to be too late to prevent it of course - had gained credibility and trust for his invented 'Imperial traitor' whilst ensuring the ongoing safety of Argot, Luke's own spy on the Rebel flagship. All this had been running in the background, hidden away beneath Luke's action against the Bothans, and it had worked perfectly - until now.

He had of course intended to be found out eventually anyway - or rather to come clean - but _only_ when he had captured Mon Mothma and so proved his commitment to the Emperor. To do so now, with nothing to show for his questionable actions in removing Palpatine's long-standing spy, was a dangerous gamble.

Handing Mothma over was to be proof of his commitment and distraction from Luke's need to remove Leemarit. Explaining the finer details of how he'd achieved the capture of the elusive leader of the Rebellion - _after he had done so _- was to have been evidence of Luke's competence, both in terms of general experience and his familiarity and expertise in matters to do with the Rebellion.

And all of this to hide a greater cause; the definitive intent which had crystallised during his recovery and was now being pursued with relentless drive, engineered through subtle plays and hidden agenda's. But before he could set his greater plan in motion, Luke needed two things; control of the campaign against the Rebellion, and to create a certain mindset; guarantee a specific weakness in the Rebellion that he alone could exploit. One that would be invisible from the outside and from within.

Wheels within wheels within wheels - a precarious game for the highest stakes, just as his Master had taught him, in actions if not in words. But all this later, when the situation allowed; not now. Now it only clouded the issue. He'd only needed a week- two at the outside.  
_Can't be helped now. Move forward._

Palpatine was watching him expectantly…

_Word it carefully- _"I needed their trust to get to Mothma. Leemarit bought me that."

"You _gave_ them my Rodian." Palpatine grated, eyes narrowed in threat, "He has been a reliable source of information for many years."

Luke didn't flinch beneath that gaze- perhaps he should have, just a little? _Too late now- go with the plan; _it was too early and he knew it, but concocting something under pressure would force mistakes and his Master was too wily an opponent to ever try such a gambit with. "I've replaced him. There's already another agent in place- I wouldn't leave us blind."

"And he is?"

"Trustworthy, Master. You taught me well." _Oh, he shouldn't have said it like that_. Luke saw his Master's eyes narrow, but he couldn't give up that information, not yet.

The Emperor didn't fail to notice the double meaning behind Skywalker's words, nor the fact that he didn't yield beneath his Masters obvious disapproval; didn't pass over this new agents name - well-taught indeed.

"There was no _need_ to replace him." Palpatine grated, not caring about the agent, only that his Jedi had done this without his permission.

"For you, Master - for me, there was every need."

Palpatine only lifted his eyebrows in impatient expectation.

"He crossed me." Luke stated flatly, mind still racing, searching for something Palpatine would understand- _believe_. "Whether he knew who I was or not was immaterial. Three years ago he sold me out to the Alliance. You taught me never to leave a score unpaid, Master- what did you expect, once you gave me his name?"

The brief memory of his Wolf's interest when Palpatine had fist quoted Leemarit's name came abruptly to mind, though at the time Palpatine had assumed it interest in the information which had so completely condemned Mothma. Palpatine seethed at his own misreading of the situation, his anger turning instantly on the boy. Even if his reason for removing Leemarit was genuine, it was still done without his Master's consent.

"Besides," his Jedi added, neatly throwing out a second reason, equally valid, "It was a gamble to leave him in place- what if he'd been discovered? He knew far too much about Luke Skywalker - knew that he wasn't an Imperial… not at the time Leemarit implicated him. If they'd found out that the Rodian was your spy…" he left the rest unsaid.

"So you sold him to them. And now they'll check his past and question everything he's ever done - including uncovering you."

_Too soon- too soon to be revealing this._ It would only cloud the issue, Luke knew; jeopardize his chances to go after Mothma. But there was nothing to be done now except roll with the punches and watch for his chance to take the conversation back where he needed it. Trying to avoid or redirect it now would only make Palpatine more suspicious. "No Master. He died with his reputation intact- I sent a mercenary in to assassinate him. One who knew only that The Heir wanted revenge on the Rebel who had broken his cover. It was him I sold to the Alliance- after he'd done his job of course. I believe he was killed, but if not they can interrogate him all they want, he'll only corroborate their beliefs. I'd already put another agent quietly into position, completely unconnected. Someone I trust, well-placed."

"You have been planning this for some time." Palpatine said; this was no gut reaction- placing people within the Rebellion was difficult. Admittedly, as the boy had just illustrated by being able to do this, he knew their methods better than most, having fought alongside them for three years. But still, this was a long-term plan- even more than it first seemed, he suspected. _Here_ was the reason behind his momentary burst of misgiving when Palpatine had first entered the room- as well it might be!

"As part of a greater plan, yes." The boy said, wary and rightfully so, since Palpatine had banned him from any involvement in hunting down the Rebels. "I wanted Mothma- you told me yourself that it was she who signed the order for my assassination… you knew I'd act on it."

"With _my_ permission! I gave permission to go after those who had aided in the attempt _within your jurisdiction_."

Luke met the Emperor's eye; "Then give me the jurisdiction; give me control of the anti-insurrection task force."

Palpatine hesitated, momentarily thrown by the unprecedented request; by the raw desire in the boy's voice. Had his plan in spurring the Rebels to reject Skywalker been this successful? Because the desire, the _need_ in the boy's appeal now sung out like a pure note in the Force.

It mollified him… somewhat. Calmed his tone as he settled back into his ornate throne. "Vader is charged with command of the anti-insurgency task-force."

"Vader is too slow." Luke made no connection in any way between himself and his father before the Emperor, knowing from long experience that this was something his Master would not tolerate.

Palpatine studied his feral Jedi, who made no attempt to avoid or avert his own gaze. His cold blue eyes were as guarded as ever, aware that he was skating on the edge, but that was where he lived his life now anyway so it held no real fear for him. Which was why Palpatine enjoyed his company; he was hard to intimidate, hard to control. But therein lay the thrill.

Still, he wouldn't let the boy off so easily; "If you had wanted Leemarit dead, you should have asked for permission to kill him."

"Leemarit was a minor detail. I wanted to prove my value – that I could bring your enemies down better than Vader." His Wolf inclined his head, making a show of submission when he felt no such thing, Palpatine knew.

He hadn't failed to realise that any information which he now received would come first through his Jedi, and not directly to him. He could force the boy to tell him the spy's identity, could take over the contact, but it would be a show of weakness on his part and he had no guarantee of allegiance from an agent he had not himself recruited and placed. He would of course place another spy in that cell, but that would take time and wouldn't negate the fact that his Jedi still had his own reliable source of information, legitimately placed.

Oh, he was learning his lessons at the hand of the Master a little too well, Palpatine sometimes suspected- and certainly far more than he let show.

"And the action gained so much-" the boy said persuasively into Palpatine's calculating silence, "Mothma, if you'll let me bring her to you."

"Let _you_ bring her." Palpatine repeated, emphasising the word, nodding knowingly, "And of course, it should be _you_, because _you_ know her intent?"

Luke almost slipped - almost said 'my'- but caught himself before his lips had begun forming the word, which would have been as damning as speaking it out loud before Palpatine's close scrutiny. "Your newly-placed informant does. Exactly- to the hour."

The conversation was back where he wanted it- though he knew the Emperor's tolerance was anything but, "I can deliver her to you, Master- if you'll let me."

He stepped forward without realising as he spoke, so driven was he. And here, Palpatine realised; here was his opportunity to punish the boy.

"No." He said simply, settling back now, waiting to watch the fireworks.

He wasn't disappointed.

"No!?" The boy practically shouted, so disbelieving was he, all composure shattered.

How wonderfully he snapped- Palpatine never tired of seeing it. "No. You acted without my permission. This is your father's jurisdiction and you know it."

"I gained the information in months that he's wasted decades chasing! Because I _know_ them- their strengths and weaknesses. _I_ can trap her."

"Why should I let you?" Palpatine goaded, amused at his frustration now.

"Because I _deserve_ it. Because she tried to kill me. It's _my_ right to bring her in, not his."

"Then you defied me simply to fulfil your own private vendetta?" Palpatine said, his own voice raising, knowing he had the boy now, that his anger and exasperation left chinks in that normally unassailable armour. That he still had something to learn was reassuring.

"No Master." The boy ground out, frustrated at being cornered.

"You _have_ _no rights!"_ Palpatine boomed, making him drop his head genuinely now, clenching his jaw against his Master's wrath. Palpatine pointed one bone-thin finger to the floor and without looking up the boy knew and bent to one knee before him. Slowly though, reluctantly - which only served to feed Palpatine's anger. "You're _nothing_! Everything that you are_, I _have made you. Everything that you think and everything that you do is to suit _my_ purpose - do you understand?!"

"…. Yes, Master." He said quietly, though it cost him dear, Palpatine could see that.

He rose, stalking toward the tensing boy, stooping before him- to reach out and gently stroke his cheek with the back of his fingers, his nails catching over the ridges of the scar there, his Jedi tensing, unsettled at the unanticipated touch.

"Don't think to cross me." Palpatine murmured menacingly, leaning in. "You are not nearly beyond me yet, child."

He lifted the boy's head, nails digging a fine line into the skin on his jaw as he trailed them free. "Don't make me repeat the same lessons again and again."

The threat inherent in those quietly spoken words brought the boy's mismatched eyes up to his momentarily. They were lessons hard learned in blood and broken bones, and they both knew that Palpatine would not hesitate to reinforce them if he thought his control slipping. Had not hesitated in the past.

"Do you understand?" Palpatine murmured, pale hand trailing back over his Wolf's scarred lips.

Skywalker jerked back just slightly in distaste, unable to stop the reflex action. "Yes Master. I understand."

Oh, there was resentment in those eyes. Fury and fear both. Palpatine smiled, gratified far more by his reluctance than he ever could have been by his fallen Jedi's submission.  
Three years since he had first knelt before Palpatine and he was no less the wolf today than he had always been. Just as wild and as feral; still trying to run, still searching to test the chains which bound him. But held in check now, tame enough to walk to heel, controlled by sheer force of will on Palpatine's part.

Which was a wonderful, empowering, enthralling thing.

He turned his back on the boy and walked easily away, dismissive and purposely so, keeping him on edge, unsure what his Master would do next.

"Turn the details over to Lord Vader." Palpatine said evenly, pausing before the elaborate screen as it slid open. "He commands the anti-insurrection force; he will deal with this. You are not to involve yourself further."

"Yes Master." His Jedi bowed his head, though there was no respect in the act, only wary capitulation. But that was enough.

.

.

.

Reece walked wearily into the medi-bay onboard the Peerless, glancing about for Hallin. The slight medic was in a side room, engrossed in some chemical breakdown on the holo-screen when Reece stepped in, his bulky frame dwarfing the smaller man.

"We're back in the Palace." Reece stated simply, his tone one which indicated that this was no great revelation.

"Have we been grounded again?" Hallin asked wearily; he'd stayed overnight in his quarters in the Palace before returning to the Peerless, as was originally arranged. Now it appeared there had been a change of plan, though they had all expected this to some extent- it was a regular thing for The Heir to be restricted to the Palace for some supposed insubordination and this time it wasn't even 'supposed', so no-one was really surprised, least of all Hallin.

The truth, Hallin deeply suspected, was that the Emperor simply liked his Jedi close at hand, and would use any excuse to keep him so without actually restricting him permanently to the Palace, which Skywalker, being Skywalker, would take as an open challenge to leave by any means possible.

Which was why Reece's answer came as a genuine surprise to Hallin. "No. But The Heir was refused permission to leave the Core Systems as he'd intended."

The ideal of course, Hallin had always thought, would be for all of his medi-bay, along with Reece's and The Heir's offices and private quarters, to be kept free of all surveillance devices so that they could talk freely, but Luke had logically pointed out that to do that was tantamount to admitting their collusion out loud, so there were few rooms in the medi-bay that were safe to talk out loud in and this wasn't one of them, requiring a little mental editing to read between the lines of what was spoken out loud- kind of like learning another language.

"I believe The Heir's hoping that he'll be able to persuade the Emperor to rescind the veto." Reece said diplomatically for the benefit of surveillance transmitters, the translation of which, Hallin knew, was that The Heir wished it known that he was still willing to negotiate some kind of deal on The Emperor's terms.

"But if not, I know he's making preparations for an extended tour of the non-trade route Colonies along with the Fury and the Dauntless. I believe he'll use this return to the Palace as an opportunity to make sure that his affairs are in order for the protracted tour of duty."

Translation: _If Palpatine didn't let him go on this little jaunt outside the Core Systems, then Skywalker would make it his mission to stay away from Coruscant as long as possible._

Sometimes surveillance could be a rather helpful way to put one's point across without having to resort to anything as crude as speaking it out loud.

"The Heir's ordered all of his personal staff back down to the Palace- your shuttle leaves the main bay in four hours. Please be prompt. If you have any queries, then I'll be in The Heir's ready-room on the bridge tying up his affairs here."

Which meant, of course, _'I'm in one of the few rooms onboard the Peerless which isn't bugged, so come up and see me if you need to talk before you leave'_.

Life was so much easier when you knew the language.

.

.

.

Mara found Skywalker in the ebony-floored Practice Halls, beginning his early morning lightsaber stanza. They now practiced together every other day, though he'd resumed daily practice, as his injuries allowed. They also practiced close-quarters combat every other evening, each proficient at the other's speciality but appreciating the chance to polish their own skills.

And of course, Mara simply enjoyed his company, though she'd never admit that out loud.

He was always at his most relaxed during these sessions Mara knew, his mind completely focused in the moment, all those tight defences slipping just slightly.

Which was good, because she had a mission today. He'd shut himself away in the private rooms of his apartments yesterday following his meeting with the Emperor and even Mara had known better than to try to follow him. Instead, she'd spent the evening thinking about his actions on the incoming flight, eventually taking a trip back down to the maintenance bays to check the download of his fighter's system log.

According to the log, there was no malfunction in any system when he'd spun slowly out of control and into oncoming flight lanes. The onboard systems registered the near-collision and the fact that it had sounded warnings in the cockpit a full ten seconds before the projected impact but no action was taken. Checking back further revealed something even more puzzling- shortly before that, the shields had been deactivated and the log registered no pressure on the stick for thirty seconds, which should have been the cut-off at which the 'dead-mans stick', the system autopilot, activated. The stick itself had 'buzzed'- the vibration a standard warning that autopilot was about to cut in - and there had been a two-second pressure on it… just enough for the autopilot to begin its countdown from thirty again.

Which meant he'd actually released the stick of his fighter and just… allowed it to drift into oncoming shipping. Purposely, because when it had tried to activate the autopilot he'd done just enough to disable it again and leave the tiny craft in freefall, shields down…

She'd sat in the fighter for more than an hour trying to fathom that one. Unable to come up with any rational explanation she'd decided to go straight to the source, and to stand any chance of getting the truth from him, she'd chosen her moment with care.

He completed the Kata as she set forward, studying his form. He was growing a little smoother every day now; a little closer to his previous level. His left side was still weak and stiff to Mara's trained eye, but not enough that it offered her any advantage anymore in lightsaber practice though in the close quarters combat practice it still left him vulnerable… and she wasn't above taking any advantage she could get when going up against Skywalker. Either in combat practice or drawing information out of that wary forest of defences.

The trick, Mara knew, was to catch him at his most confident and therefore at his most relaxed- and that was always with a lightsaber in his hand.

He turned to her, waiting for her to cross the ebony floor of the large Practice Hall, chest still rising from the exertion of the forms. As he waited, he swung his saber in a slow loop to either side of his body, then began to release the hilt as it made its return loop, catching it with alternate hands, making Mara wince.

"I don't know if anyone's told you, but these things are dangerous." she said, holding her own saber hilt up.

He smiled loosely, unperturbed, "Your trouble is that you practice too much with those 'safe' blades." He said of the practice sabres in the cabinet at the far wall, "You're afraid of a live lightsaber."

Mara was unrepentant. "I'd say that's a reasonable reaction to something that cuts limbs off on contact."

"There's a galaxy of difference between being nervous of something and holding a healthy respect for it. If you flinch every time a live blade comes close to your face, it's pretty much a self-fulfilling prophesy."

Mara raised her eyebrows, "I _don't_ flin…"

As she spoke, Luke whipped his saber up in a lightening-fast roundhouse blow which levelled out at her chin, Mara activating her blade and bringing it up to block in the same moment. His ruby blade stopped dead at her shoulder as she shied back, no power in her hasty parry.

"You flinched." he said simply.

"Well you would have flinched at that!!" Mara shouted, heart pumping.

"No, I would have ducked." he grinned, lowering his blade, "With your arms pulled in so close to your body like that, you'd never have anywhere near the force necessary stop this kind of wide, sweeping blow - unless you took the strike very close to the hilt, which is always a gamble because either you'd just get carried back with the incoming blade or more likely, your opponent needs only make a slight change in trajectory to cut your saber hilt in two- which would be the least of your problems because he'd probably drop just a little lower and slice both your hands off… then just keep on going through your neck."

"Fine." Mara said, internalising that burst of information, "Next time I'll duck."

He shrugged, "I'd probably make some effort to make contact with the incoming blade too, just to limit my opponent's responses but yeah, basically I'd be getting the hell out of its way. Any blow with that kind of power is difficult to deal with."

Mara nodded, considering; Skywalker had turned out to be quite a good teacher, casual enough in his approach that she didn't take umbrage or feel that he was talking down to her despite his obvious expertise, and his own openness and willingness to listen in their sessions together working on close-quarters-combat, in which Mara was still holding the upper hand- _just_- were the example which enabled her to view his lightsaber lessons with the same conscientious grace.

"So," she said, "If they're so difficult to block, why don't they get used more often?"

He pulled his saber up and back, as if to deliver another wide blow, then froze. "Because there's a good half-second when the blade's back here past my own shoulder line, leaving me wide open to any attack if my opponent has fast reflexes." He brought the blade around again, slower this time, and Mara forced herself to keep from flinching as it came in, though she still somehow ended up with her own blade pulled in tight to her body as she blocked instinctively.

"You need to catch the blade and just guide it past yourself." he said, "Deflect it, don't try to stop its momentum- it's too great. Here, make the move on me."

She brought the live blade around slowly and he simply batted it down dismissively, "Like you mean it."

Raising her eyebrows, Mara swung back and brought her saber in horizontally with real force, Skywalker catching it up with his own, leaning back just slightly on his centre of gravity as he angled the two blades forward without looking, to guide them over and past his head, taking a short backstep as he did so, the move ending with his own blade over Mara's; always the desired position since it gave the wielder control.

Mara nodded in appreciation as he straightened and took a slow step forward and to her side to illustrate this, his sabre remaining high but horizontal, so that as he moved forward he was effectively inside her defences with a killing blow.

"_That's_ why you can't be afraid of your own blade- it's always got to be between you and your opponent's lightsaber, no matter how close that is." He stepped to the side, hands out low before him, making slow loops with his saber to either side of his body, passing the hilt smoothly from one hand to the other as he did so. "Just try this- you can go wide to start with."

Mara followed suit, holding her blade out before her, the look of concentration on her face as she made the first loop and tried a cagey pass-over of the hilt making Skywalker stifle a smile.

"Are you laughing at me?!" she said, stopping dead.

"Absolutely not." he countered, "Keep going…"

Mara started the slow loop again then paused, "You are!"

"I'm not! I'm laughing _with_ you."

"I'm _not_ laughing."

"Really? You would if you could see your expression."

"Okay, that's it."

"Sorry." He smiled disarmingly, "Sorry; I take it back. You should… keep practicing. When you can do it without… scrunching your face up like that, you'll know you've mastered it."

"Is that why you do it-" Mara asked, "So you're not afraid of a live blade?

"Yeah-" He grinned wickedly, allowing the casual drawl of his natural Rim accent for a moment- something he often did when alone with Mara, "But I also like to do it just because it freaks you out."

Mara just couldn't help but flash a sarcastic smile in return, "Hey, you want to cut your own ears off, that's fine with me."

"You just don't want to have to be the one who has to tell Palpatine when I do, right?"

"Precisely." Mara said primly, "He was just trying to make sure he wasn't afraid, Excellency, and he accidentally cut his own head off."

Luke shrugged, "No great loss."

Mara glanced down to her saber, her own smile fading just slightly, "Is that why you did the thing in your TIE fighter yesterday?"

"What thing?" Luke was instantly, visibly uncomfortable, his Coruscanti accent returning as all his shields slammed into place.

"What- d'you think I haven't noticed?" she glanced up, trying to keep her tone at once light and sincere. "Every so often you go completely off the deep and do something outrageously stupid. Like that firefight on Tanaab. And when you were flying down to the Palace yesterday. You just… flip out."

"Thanks." Luke said dryly.

"I'm serious-" she maintained, an earnest tone coming through in her voice; no side, no pretence– just genuine, upfront concern. "Why do you do that?"

"I just…" he shrugged uneasily, caught offguard by the undisguised gravity in her voice, that perfect accent falling away again in response, "I guess I'm… giving Fate a chance."

Mara frowned, uncertain at the explanation, though she knew he was telling the truth. "What does _that_ mean?"

He sighed, eyes to the ground, "Just… giving it a free shot, I guess. If I'm not… _meant_ to be here, doing what I'm doing - if I'm wrong - then… that's Fate's chance to set it right."

"So you're… giving _Fate_ a free shot at you?" Mara asked doubtfully.

What was going on in his head that he would do that?

A few months before the Assassination attempt, in a running firefight between the 701st and local militia on Neimodia, he'd made Mara's heart rise into her mouth as he walked to the front line and out from cover over to a wall panel which closed down the far doors and so rendered the militia trapped within a storage compound. Just _walked_ out - not crouched or run, not lifted a hand in self-defence - just walked out, as if he were taking a quiet stroll.

And a few months before that on Ord Mirit, when a Twi-Lek had stepped out from the crowd and taken two shots at him - two shots from a heavy handgun at close range - he'd just stood there and let her. Just watched her step from the crowd- had watched her before that, Mara knew, _knowing_ her intent, because by the time she pushed forward he'd already stopped and turned face on to her, head tilted to one side just… waiting.  
She'd been wrestled to the ground and disarmed of course, Mara and Reece stepping in, Reece to place himself forward of Skywalker as Mara tried to yank him back, but he'd twisted easily free without even seeming to notice. He'd just kept his eyes on the Twi-Lek as they'd bundled her up and into a troop transport, stormtroopers closing in about him to obscure his view, though in truth it was pretty much over by then. The danger had passed and, unsettling as it was, Mara realised that even knowing it was coming he'd done nothing to prevent it or change its outcome.

What could _possibly_ be going on in his head that he allowed - even sought out - these insane moments of risk? What did he believe he was doing that was so reprehensible that the only way to appease his own conscience was to allow 'Fate' its chance at redress?

He remained as ever a puzzle within a mystery within an enigma to Mara, and the more she tried to fathom him, the less she realised she knew. But the more it drew her in, that distant whispering presence at the edge of her consciousness as addictive as ever, pushing all other considerations aside in her fascination.

Did he feel the same? Because despite his recent unprecedented easing of the composed reserve which had always maintained a polite distance between them, she had no idea - none at all.

.

.

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**CHAPTER**** THIRTEEN**

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.

Luke stood again in the huge, gilded ante-room which connected to his Master's Private Audience Chamber, staring out through the massed banks of tall windows to the distant Capital, his mind focused on the delicate negotiations which he was about to initiate.

He had remained in the Palace for almost a week now, keeping to himself, trying to maintain a low profile in his quarters aside from his daily trips to the Practice Halls and attending Court when commanded to do so by the Emperor, remaining always just within the bounds of respectful behaviour without involving himself further.

The Emperor had of course noted this, but so far had elected to hold his silence, choosing instead to charge his Jedi with a thousand petty assignments in and around the Palace, forcing him to interact with various Courtiers and sycophants and attendants, all of which Luke had completed without comment.

Lord Vader had been recalled to Coruscant, which meant that at least Luke had managed to delay having to pass the information on by recommending that communicating such sensitive information over even secure channels was inadvisable, and based on his present schedule, Lord Vader would have time to be briefed in person on Coruscant before setting out to Bothawuii. On these terms, the Emperor had permitted Luke to continue making preparations for the strike, allowing the illusion that he may yet have some involvement even though Luke _knew_ that Palpatine was simply waiting for the perfect moment to snatch it from his grasp again.

It was the kind of petty battle of wills which Luke tired of very quickly yet his Master seemed to thrive on, leaving Luke feeling frustrated and trapped, knowing that Palpatine was simply playing his games with no intention of ever letting his precious Jedi out of the Core Systems, forcing Luke into the kind of underhand, circuitous schemes that he so detested in others.

Learning his craft, no matter how unwillingly.

Because now he was waiting to see his Master again, intending to ask one last time for permission to lead the task force. But he had something new to throw into the pot, one last lure; his most persuasive yet.

The ripple had been subtle as a whisper, a gentle sigh cast to the ether and let loose. The final breath of a thankless life.

But Luke had sensed it, some distant, twisted connection to his old Master remaining despite the distance, both physical and spiritual, which separated them now. Sat cross-legged in the silence of meditation on the ebonised wood of the cavernous Practice Hall floor, he had stilled in rapt, focused attention, his lightsaber laid before him, sweat from the hours-long training session cold against still-heated skin, studying the subtle ripples of cause and effect within the Force.

His ability to meditate following the exertion of duelling exercises was incredibly heightened by the intense concentration required to master his art. If nothing else, the long years he had spent here beneath Palpatine's demanding, uncompromising scrutiny had presented him the reason to develop a precise, powerful attunement to the Force, partly because he learned from and desired to improve upon the formidable, flawless example set by his self-assured Master and partly as vital defence before this most unforgiving of critics.

Was it Darkness that he touched now? Was he lost, that he could call this raw, dynamic power so decisively and fluidly to him, and if so, then why could he dismiss it with equal effortless ease?

Because he _could_ step beyond it, could reach out with precise, delicate focus to slide between the hair's-breadth chink, the brink which separated shadows from darkness, to connect with a unique, distinctive power of such incredible, flawless harmony that with it he could almost _feel_ the galaxy turning, sensing the infinitesimal changes in currents and eddies which marked any event of relevance, tracing their effect spreading out into the void, complex patterns of reality and potential overlaying and rebounding…

And it was here that he sensed the shift, frail and insubstantial, gone in an instant.

It was strangely reassuring that the passing of a single life, even one as significant as this, caused barely a ripple on the surface of that complex order. Humbling to realise how utterly inconsequential the lives of even the most influential of beings were in the greater scheme of things, the galaxy rolling on heedless of their struggles, failures and accomplishments both.

Still, he felt a certain sadness… regret even, that events had unfolded this way. The last thing he had said to his old Master was that he would return. Now that option was spent- though perhaps it had been long before today.  
Luke opened his eyes and stared at the burnished black floor, allowing a moment of silence out of respect if no greater sentiment; he was, after all, probably the only being in the galaxy who had a close enough connection with Master Yoda to have sensed his passing.

The moment stilled, expectant…

_The only being with a close enough connection_…

Now, finally did the wave of effect impact against his receptive perceptions-

He rose quickly, heading for the door, plans and tactics whirling through his mind. He had an audience with his present Master to arrange - and Master Yoda was the subject.

.

Ushered in by Mas Amedda, Luke walked quickly the length of the Private Audience Chamber, working hard to conceal his anticipation and intent. It was a gamble, he knew, but one he was willing to take - at this point, with time running out before Mon Mothma's meticulously-induced trip to Bothawuii, a calculated risk was a reasonable one.

Chances were that his past close association to Master Yoda had afforded Luke the connection to sense what Palpatine had not; he had, after all, been unaware of the old Jedi Master's continued existence before Luke had exposed him.

Which meant that for once, Luke held the upper hand; knowledge was power, his Master had drummed that into his head time and again. Well now he had something that Palpatine wanted - had always wanted - but until now, Luke had been unwilling to relinquish.

Now, if he played his hand well, Luke had a chance at what _he_ wanted- what he _needed_ in order to move forward.

.

Palpatine watched his Jedi walk smoothly the length of the chamber, new purpose in his step. One week after being denied permission to go after Mothma, his Jedi had not been so impolitic as to mention his objective again yet, but Palpatine had been waiting for his next move. Tenacious as he was, the boy didn't give up on anything so easily, particularly something of this much importance to him, so the Emperor had been curious as to his Jedi's next strategy.

He remained furious that Skywalker had interacted with the Rebellion, no matter how remotely, in order to secure his objective, and no matter how much Skywalker maintained that luring Mon Mothma out of hiding was his _only_ objective, there was a greater issue at stake here, one that seemed not to have occurred to the boy as yet.

Whether he believed Skywalker or not was immaterial- the fact remained that his Jedi had been able to conceal enough information from Palpatine to be able to carry out this complete operation, probably over a protracted period whilst he was in the Palace recovering from the attack, without once revealing any aspect of it to Palpatine, either physically or mentally.

Which brought up the disturbing realisation that the boy could now lie to him very effectively-

What else was Skywalker hiding?

He dropped to one knee before Palpatine now, head lowered, long, dark hair still wet from the 'fresher following the extended lightsaber practice which he always hid behind when incarcerated here in the Palace, falling back on countless hours alone in the Practice Hall as a method of remaining removed from Court and the company of the unworthy, the power-hungry, the Courtiers and the sycophants which populated any center of true authority.

The boy hated them all, Palpatine knew, though he himself rather enjoyed their company; it remained a constant fascination how low sentient beings would stoop to realise their own greedy ambitions. A private entertainment to push until he found each one's breaking point…. and then to coax them that little bit further.  
True power lay not in the possession of planets and systems, but in the complete control of those who lived their lives within his influence. To own one soul - to truly command it - was worth a system of planets, more addictive than any dry and distant census of populace and assets.

The boy had yet to realise that… but he was learning; Palpatine hadn't failed to notice the changing dynamics of his relationship with his 'watcher', Mara Jade. In hindsight, she had presumably become an impediment when he had begun his operation to snare Mothma, and unable to remove her without drawing attention to the fact, he'd begun a far subtler game.

Whatever it was that had brought him to his Master today, it was significant. Mas Amedda had received a short visit from Skywalker less than an hour earlier and had promptly cancelled and rearranged long-standing appointments planned for that morning, entering when Palpatine's previous meeting was finished to inform the Emperor of the 'essential' schedule changes, completely committed to providing The Heir with immediate access.

It was rare indeed that the boy used the Force to compel his requirements on Palpatine's personal staff, not least because he knew that his Master disapproved- as point of principle rather than any more benevolent consideration. Still, it amused him that his fallen Jedi had done this now- and to Amedda, enforcing his will so adeptly and so completely that the Chancellor still had no idea that he'd been manipulated.

"What do you have to say, that cannot wait?" Palpatine asked the kneeling man, his tone indulgent rather than inpatient in light of his Wolf's tenacious, resolute manoeuvring.

Luke kept his head down, eyes low, forcing his breathing to a slow, regular rhythm.

_Last chance; make it count._

He knew that his Master preferred to keep him on a short leash, keep him in the Palace, keep him close at hand- and he knew why. But he also knew how much it would mean to Palpatine to see the final fulfilment of his precious prophesy, the vision he had seen only days after they had first faced off against each-other; that the idealistic, naïve boy who had so adamantly refused to give up Master Yoda's location would one day hand it over him willingly.

Palpatine would see this as the ultimate confirmation of his control of Luke. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps Luke's readiness to use Master Yoda's death for his own ends meant that Palpatine was right - or possibly his willingness to lie so guiltlessly to the Emperor and manipulate him so readily was proof that Palpatine would never truly own his precious Jedi as he wanted. Luke didn't know, and he'd long since stopped looking for answers.

They were seldom what one desired.

Now, all that he knew was that he finally had the ammunition to force his Master's hand- so the words Luke spoke aloud were as much a surprise to himself as they probably were to the Emperor. "The completion of the SSD Invincible is back on schedule, Master. It will be released from the Bilbringi shipyards in five month's time en route to Coruscant for its official launch."

"I see." Palpatine acknowledged neutrally, continuing to stare at his Jedi. They both knew that this wasn't what he had come to say.

Luke remained in genuflexion on the cold marble floor before the dais, a deep reluctance beginning to creep into his thoughts. Could he do this? Use Master Yoda's death as a ploy to help bring down the leader of a Rebellion which the old Jedi Master had probably helped instigate.

He held silent, eyes down, uneasy qualms tying a knot in his stomach as old memories pulled old principles to the fore…

"Something troubles you." His Master prompted at last, curiosity giving his words an uncharacteristically compassionate tone.

Luke remained still, remained silent, torn between present needs and past loyalties…

Palpatine watched, fascinated, as the boy remained statue-still, jaw clamped against whatever he had come intending to say. What could it be that bit into him like this, leaving him visibly shaken in the presence of the one man before whom he never allowed any show of weakness?

"Rise, my friend." Palpatine said at last, wishing to coax the boy on, fascinated now. "Rise and walk with me."

His fallen Jedi stood and set mechanically forward beside his Master, still lost in this unspoken struggle, caught behind some deep-rooted barrier which left him bound and distracted, unable to proceed. Palpatine walked casually out onto the wide terrace, the late summer sun beating inexorably down on pale marble flags. He disliked intensely the burning heat of Coruscant's summer, but he knew that such things set the boy at ease so was willing to withstand it, such was his curiosity.

He eventually stopped to rest pale, gaunt hands on the intricately-carved terrazzo balustrade, looking absently over the Capital- it held no interest for him; he already owned it completely. That which he desired to command was stood in subdued confusion beside him, eyes to the ground, adrift in his own thoughts, oblivious to the breathtaking view laid out before him.

"What has the power to leave my wolf at such an impasse?" Palpatine invited benevolently, grating voice tempered to wheedling tones.

The boy remained silent, shaking his head just slightly, plagued to distraction.

Did he know how vulnerable he left himself by clinging to these broken fragments of forfeit morals? Looking into the boys face now, Palpatine could see that he did; could sense how much this grated, how desperate he was to shed these final, tattered ties. What held him to so irresolute-a silence then?

Enthralled, Palpatine reached out into the Force, ochre-flecked eyes half-closed in concentration, stretching out a trembling hand to his Jedi's cheek without touching it.

"You are lost, child." He said in empathy, hoping to coax him on, "These are old doubts, long since conquered. Why do they plague you now?"

But his Jedi remained silent so Palpatine stepped back, knowing that if he pushed too hard, the boy would inevitably back off further. Even now, his Jedi resisted every step of the way- just more subtly… opposed his own decisions as much as his Masters, it sometimes seemed.

The Emperor turned again to look over the Capital, though his attention remained centred on the struggle taking place behind the boy's tense, distant expression. Without turning Palpatine spoke again, his voice quiet and calm as if making a casual observation, though his words were anything but.

"How easily your resolve crumbles, my friend. Did I teach you nothing? Are you so weak that you would surrender years of struggle and sacrifice and accomplishments before a moment's jaded conscience - do all of your aspirations and ambitions mean so little?" The Sith Master turned just slightly to deliver his last, "Anything of worth comes at a price, you know that - the first thing that one must be prepared to sacrifice to any true goal is oneself."

The boy remained silent for long seconds then, as if finally realising his Master's words, he stepped back and brought his head up, mismatched eyes the intense blue of the summer sky, the dark twist in his right eye startling in its contrast.

He reeled about and walked quickly from the wide terrace without a word.

Palpatine gave two heartbeats before turning to follow, but such was his Jedi's desperation to leave that by the time the Emperor had entered the cool darkness of the cavernous, opulent hall, the boy had already reached the tall double-doors at the far side-

Luke walked quickly from the balcony and back through the overbearing, ostentatious opulence of the cavernous Audience Chamber, so that he was almost to its exit before he sensed his Master enter the shadowy gloom behind him.

Palpatine did not speak, but simply watched his Jedi leave… and even that held the power to stop Luke in his tracks. Or perhaps it was something within himself because he stood, breathing heavily, eyes on the doors before him, body tensed against the need to act.

But he didn't leave; remained still, struggling against conscience and demons. Silence lay leaden in the gloom of the massive, soulless room-

"Will you give me what I want?" Luke asked at last, eyes still on the doors before him, voice low and quiet.

"And what is that?"

Luke didn't turn; didn't deign to answer. It was Palpatine for once, who broke the silence, "I have made my decision."

"Reconsider."

"In light of what?"

Luke half-turned, pale eyes bright in the low light, "Master Yoda's location."

The Sith's yellow eyes widened as he took two quick steps forward-

And Luke knew that he had him. There would be posturing, details to be argued, ego to be placated… but it was all academic now. He would go - and he _knew_ it.

Palpatine walked slowly to the throne without speaking and Luke turned to face him, waiting for the first volley.

"I do not barter permission and favours, Jedi." The Emperor opened.

Luke bit down his sarcasm at the bare-faced lie. Irrelevant of what was said from now on, he had nothing to prove anymore - he'd won and he knew it. "This is neither, Master. Only acknowledgement of services rendered. You said it yourself- three years of loyalty and obedience."

"I used neither of those words - nor am I in the habit of doing so when it comes to my feral Jedi. You are as much a liability as an advantage."

Luke took a step forward, "You want loyalty? Then let me show it to you - let me hunt down your enemies. Give me this opportunity to prove myself."

Palpatine remained silent, seemingly unmoved, but Luke knew a sabacc-face when he was looking at one. Again he stepped forward.

"I'm worth nothing to you unless you use me. Give me this and in return I'll gift you the leader of the Rebellion and last of the Jedi."

He looked down as he spoke his next, unsure whether he was overstepping the bounds, but knowing his Master's dry humour, aware that he often responded well to outrageous audacity on the part of his advocate - and a little bare-faced flattery. "I was once told by a wise man that anything of worth comes at a price."

He looked up to the Emperor, wary-

Palpatine's yellow-flecked eyes narrowed and Luke held that gaze with equal intensity…… then the Sith Master's thin, dry lips pulled back over spoiled teeth in a cackle of wry amusement.

"Very well- I'll pay your price. You have my consent, Jedi… on this occasion only. Don't disappoint me."

Which was of course, exactly what would happen when Palpatine sent his stormtroopers to Degobah. Luke bowed low, to hide the triumph on his face, "I would never dare, Master."

Palpatine raised heavy brows as he leered a broken-toothed grin, "Yet you would dare anything else, it seems."

"I have learned at my Master's feet."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed, but in amusement, aware that he was being lionized but relishing it nonetheless. "And did this wise Master also teach you to deliver on your promises?"

Luke met the old man's eyes and stood straight, shoulders relaxing, loosing any lingering reluctance with a long, steady breath, "….. Degobah. In the Outer Rim, near the Rimma Trade Route."

It was, in the last, surprisingly easy to say out loud. Had he lost so much? Or was he finally finding his resolve?

"And where exactly on… Degobah should I be looking?"

"There are three continents. The smallest is on the equator, covered with rain forests. To its Eastern side there are three major tributaries, all visible from high orbit. I landed between the second and the third, in heavily-forested swampland."

The Emperor raised his eyebrows, "Co-ordinates?"

"No. The planet has wave-scattering attributes which interfere with instrumentation from low orbit down, which is probably why it's never been settled. I left three visual markers at high-canopy level which will be visible at nightfall if they're still operational."

Palpatine nodded, satisfied, and Luke turned to leave.

He was almost to the tall double-doors before his Master spoke out again.

"I had thought to send you to deal with Master Yoda personally." It was a test, Luke knew, and hardly a subtle one. But he played the game, pausing to half-turn back.

"I'll do as you command. If you wish me to go, then…" he trailed off in invitation, sensing the carefully-concealed tendrils of the Force reaching out to him as his Master sought to gauge his response. But there was nothing to hide, not in this; he had no qualms about returning to his old Master's hiding place - not anymore. Whether it was he or Vader who attended to this was immaterial, and he allowed his Master to sense that. But that alone.

Palpatine hesitated for long moments, head to one side, then; "No- no I will send Lord Vader. He has an older score to settle."

"I'm sure he'll prevail." Luke said easily, unruffled by his own barefaced lies, tempering them with a hidden truth for his own amusement. "Master Yoda is hardly in his prime."

.

.

The Emperor's Wolf walked briskly across floors and levels to the cavernous grandeur of the Crossways, the massive, cathedral-ceiling space which linked the four Habitation Towers at their bases, heading for the Campaign rooms in the North Tower. He'd withheld much of the finer details from the plans he had been forming with the Intel Chiefs, both his Master's and his own, because one way or another he'd intended to go to Bothawuii. Now was the time to fill in the blanks and look for flaws.

He and his ever-present scarlet shadow of Royal Guards turned many heads as he traversed the crowded space, Luke oblivious to the fascinated glances and the deferential bows of the many staff here, their whispered voices echoing through the vaulted excess of the vast, ten-storey space.

Slowly, awareness of their massed presence filtered in through the Force- not because he was the centre of attention for so many minds, which he had learned to become accustomed to, but because of the undercurrent of disquiet and nervous apprehension which colored those thoughts at the sight of the Sith who walked among them.

He slowed, looking into the faces of people, none of whom would meet his eye. Eventually he stopped and just stood, gazing about him from face to face, an island in the widening flow of people about him, no-one wishing to come too close.

What were they afraid of - what did they see when they looked at him?

Two women passed, Courtiers, from their richly-embroidered clothes, willing to risk eye-contact, holding his gaze as they passed by, glancing back flirtatiously. Luke watched them, his expression changing not a whit at their apparent adoration. He knew what they saw- power, status, wealth. Nothing more.

For that they'd sell everything.

He frowned as he turned away, starting slowly forward again; was he so very different? What had he sold, to gain what he needed today.

He passed into the North Tower, his reply to Master Yoda's challenge when he had first arrived on Degobah searching for a teacher ringing in his ears;

'_Will he finish what he begins?'_

'_I won't fail you.'_ He had promised in return.

Could the end justify the means…

Or was he lost in Darkness?

Hard experience had taught him that life was seldom as black and white as the pious sophistries his old Master had spouted among the lies he had weaved. How had the old Jedi expected one man to bring down an Empire alone - a task which his practised veteran mentor was clearly incapable of himself or he would have done so long ago. And yet he still expected Luke to be willingly bound to outmoded tenets which had so clearly failed anyway, even when the Jedi had stood at the prime of their power.

He quickened his pace now, his jaw set in frustration against the self-reproach which he could feel gnawing at the corners of his conscience.

Did he regret giving up the dead Jedi Masters last resting place?

Yes… and no.

He may have failed his old Master, but then Master Yoda had failed him too; had allowed him to face his enemy with a glaring, profound weakness. One so easily remedied - except that it would have broken Yoda's control of his new Jedi… interfered with _his own_ goals.

How did that make the old Jedi Master any better than Luke?

Yes, he had failed Yoda, but his teacher had failed him first. He should have turned the mirror on himself when he was preaching of Darkness and Destiny.

Did that excuse Luke's actions? No. But he wouldn't be damned by one who was, to his mind, no better than himself. And anyway, the game wasn't over until all the cards were played- if he was to be damned, it should be then.

He hadn't quite failed the old Jedi Master yet.

.

.

.

Vader released the airtight seals on the meditation chamber in his private quarters at the Palace. It was well after midnight, but he had sensed his son's approach, subtle as it was. He doubted anybody else had.

He stood and walked from the otherwise empty room, divorced from it by the constraints of his life-support suit. In the chamber's oxygen-rich environment, he could at least remove his helmet - feel the air on his face again - but that was lost to him now in the real world, where his scarred lungs were too damaged to sustain him.

He could have remained in his chamber, spoken to Luke from there, but he didn't wish his son to see the automated, mechanical systems which kept him alive. Didn't wish him to know how little of the man that was his father was left. So instead he waited in the near-darkness of a receiving room, where there was at least some semblance of a normal life on show for the benefit of those few who came here. Vader himself never used the room and had chosen nothing in it save for the large canvas hanging on one wall; a view of the Varykino Lakes, in the mountains of Naboo.

His son entered the room behind him and Vader tore his gaze away from the painting and turned about.

"Good evening." he said simply - and instantly chided his own inhibitions.

The boy nodded in reply, "This room is safe?"

It was the same thing that they always asked, one of the other, whenever they met; was the room safe to talk in- was it bugged. That was the limits of his association with his own son; stolen moments, watchful for betrayal or discovery.

"This room is safe." He replied simply with a short nod, and they both stood in silence for long moments. Finally his son looked away, uneasy, "I've come to take my leave of you. The Peerless heads out tomorrow for Bothawuii."

"For Mothma." Vader replied levelly, bringing his sons' eyes up in surprise. "The Emperor told me. I think he meant it to be a contention between us - that I would believe the task should have gone to me." He shook his head against the uneasy guilt in Luke's eyes, "He was wrong. This has been your campaign and your strategy. You should finish what you have begun."

Luke glanced away, his father's words reminding him again of Master Yoda, glancing into the ether to ask of Kenobi, _'Will he finish what he begins?'_

Vader sensed the burst of self-reproach as his son looked away and wondered at it. "She would have been proud of you." He said obliquely.

Luke glanced up, frowning. "Who?"

"Your mother. She had the highest standards of anyone I ever knew, for herself and for those around her. She would have been proud of you."

Luke looked away, deeply uncomfortable, "I very much doubt it."

They remained silent for a long time, though it was no longer awkward, just… uncertain, each wishing to continue, but neither knowing how.

"What was she like?" Luke uttered at last, unable to look at his father as he did so.

It seemed to Vader an eternity since he had first taken the holo-pic of Padmé to Luke aboard the Executor. Now, looking back, he couldn't believe he had thought that Luke would ever have conceded so much so easily as to have taken the projector - in his place, Anakin Skywalker would have done _exactly_ the same as Luke Skywalker had.

Now, Vader knew, this question meant so much more than simply a desire to know his mother - because he wanted to know _from his father_. Wanted to know the woman that his father had known.

"She was… very beautiful. True beauty - it shone from within her."

"How long did you know her?" Luke shied away from asking the one question he truly wanted to ask; _did you ever love her?_

"Since I was a boy- nine years old. Before I was even a Padawan."

His son considered, a slight frown marking his youthful face, scarred now by Mothma's hand. In truth, Vader wanted very much to go after her himself- longed to with a biting fury. But this was far more equitable; for his son to deal with this himself- for him to _want_ to. For the Emperor to trust him to. Vader still had no idea what coercion the boy could have used to change their Master's mind; he had been so adamant for so long that Luke should remain always close to Coruscant, and Vader could hardly blame him - in Palpatine's place, he would have placed the same limits.

"She was from Tatooine?" Luke asked, mismatched eyes to his father.

"No - she was from Naboo." He wanted to tell his son everything - that his mother had been a Senator; a Queen - but too much too fast would only overwhelm him… and in some selfish way, he still wanted to hold onto this power he had over the boy; the lure to bring him back again.

"Then…?" Luke prompted, fascinated.

"Padmé came to Tatooine when her starship was damaged, looking for parts. That was how we first met." Vader fell silent, but his son waited expectantly, so eventually he offered more, "I… became a Padawan soon after that, coming to Coruscant. We did not meet for many years, but I always remembered her."

"You were a Jedi… when you met her again?" Which meant he shouldn't have been with her, Luke knew. So much information, so quickly- this was as much an education of who his father was as his mother.

"Your mother had no part in my… decisions." Vader said evenly, and Luke could sense the defence in his words. That he wished to protect her was… touching. "She would have held me to the Jedi's misguided beliefs and I would have eventually fallen with all those around me, defending a flawed cause."

Luke was past trying to challenge his fathers warped views; they were too deeply entrenched and now was not the time; even he had cited them only in defence of…

"Her name was… Padmé?"

"Padmé Amidala. That was her given name." Vader chose not to give her family name yet, which was still easily traceable in Imperial archives. But to say even this out loud made something wrench deep within him despite the years- another wound that never healed.

To listen to his father speak with such hesitant regret of his mother was intensely… humanising. At once disturbing and elating, breaking down every assumption Luke had believed, holding him to fascinated silence as his father continued.

"She was intelligent and strong-willed. Passionate in her beliefs; she _would not_ be dictated to - in that you are very much alike."

Luke hung his head, deep regret in his distant, wistful expression. "I wish…" he stopped, as much out of consideration for his father as chiding himself- there was no use in longing; the past could not be changed.

Vader paused, his own remorse knotting his stomach- that he had taken her not only from himself, but from his son. Nothing he did or said now could ever….

He lifted his head, "Wait."

Luke looked after his father as he strode quickly from the room, frowning his curiosity.

When Vader returned a few minutes later, it was to find his son stood before the painting, staring into it, fascinated. Did he know? Could he pick up some trace in the Force of the endless hours Vader had spent stood in that very spot, staring with desolate melancholy.

He turned as his father entered the room and for a split-second Vader faltered - he had so little that had been hers…

But that was why he should give it to his son. To _their_ son.

He held out his closed fist and Luke reached out his open palm, uncertain. Dropping it from his hand, giving it voluntarily to another, was strangely freeing. Not at all difficult, when it came to it - because of the one he gave it to.

Luke glanced down as something fell into his palm, small and cool and surprisingly heavy.

He pulled his hand back to stare at the ring. It was a large, square, pale blue stone set in dark, mirror-polished perennium.

"It was your mothers." Vader said, though Luke had _known_. "I brought her the stone from Jabiim. She had it made into a ring and wore it on… the first finger of her right hand."

Jabiim- painful memories twisted up about Vader's thoughts… memories of Obi-Wan- of the shock in the eyes of the man whose windpipe he had crushed using the Force. He blinked quickly, willing the memories away again; they had no place here. "She…"

He didn't say it- couldn't. He had brought her the uncut, worthless stone simply because he had seen it and thought of her in that moment - known that she would like it. She had been so enchanted- had held it up to his face and claimed it was the same pale blue as his eyes, and had it cut and set into precious perennium- black, polished perennium, dark as the robes he wore, she'd teased.

She had worn it always, as a ring on her first finger, lamenting having to remove it when… when her pregnancy made her hands swell. He'd stolen it from her jewellery box, intending to have the ring resized so that she could wear it again. But duties had pulled him away and he never seemed to have the time and suddenly…

Suddenly she was gone, and everything had changed. Except the ring, whose stone was still the colour of his eyes, set in polished black… like the armour he now wore.

It had been a long time before he could look at the ring, so completely did it remind him of her.

And yet, it had eventually become one of his most treasured possessions.

And now he gave it to his son- because he wanted the boy to have something which was hers. Some contact, however distant, with the mother he would never know… because of Vader. Because of Anakin. Because of Obi-Wan.

Luke remained silent, staring at the ring in his hand for a long time. When he finally lifted his pale blue eyes to his father, Vader knew that his son had sensed the desperate play of wretched emotions which plagued him.

"I can't take this." He said at last, voice quiet and certain, holding his open hand out.

"You should have something which was hers." Vader said resolutely, making no move.

"Not this. I know what it must…"

"Take it. She would want you to have it."

Luke studied his father, and Vader knew that his mask hid nothing- not from his son. The boy looked again to the ring and finally tried it on his index finger, where Vader had said that his mother had worn it- it didn't pass the first joint, and Vader could hear the gentle amusement in his sons voice as he pulled it free, "It's tiny. She must have been…" he said no more but Vader remembered again how delicate she was, how graceful. How fragile.

Luke tried the ring on each finger; it was just large enough to fit his little finger and he left it there, unable to take his eyes from it. He was silent for a long time, searching to find the words which were equal to this priceless gift. Finally he said the honest, uncomplicated truth. "It's… thank you- it's an incomparable gift. I'll take good care of it, I promise."

Vader took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable, voice gruff and dismissive, "It's nothing- a worthless trinket. Do as you wish with it."

"Then I'll treasure it." His son said genuinely, eyes still on the ring. He glanced up suddenly, realising something; "You have blue eyes!"

"Yes." Vader replied awkwardly.

His son shrugged, looking back down to the ring. "I had always thought that they were brown for some reason. I'd thought mine were from my mother."

"Your mother had brown eyes, like heartwood; and long, auburn hair." It occurred to Vader only now that he had not mentioned out loud that Padmé had said the stone was the color of his eyes - could the boy read his thoughts so completely? Had this been a momentary slip on Luke's part which revealed the extent of his ability?

"…What happened?" The deep loss of a child left alone and abandoned shone out through those words and took Vader's thoughts completely, leaving him speechless with guilt.

But his son only waited patiently, so that eventually Vader had to speak, though he could not find the courage to face his son. "I… cannot tell you."

Luke's gaze fell to the floor, regret and remorse twisting through his sense at the realisation of what his father was saying. Yet he made no accusation, no move to condemn or rebuke. Perhaps he sensed Vader's own grief; his burning, knifing shame.

Silence drew out again, marked by the deep, rasping breaths of Vader's suit, Luke bringing his eyes back to his father only slowly.

"Why?" he asked at last, the only question left to him, Vader supposed. But even now there was no censure in his quiet voice, only the desire to know.

Vader had wished a thousand times for the opportunity to explain his actions - to defend them before the only one who mattered, when he was finally prepared to listen. Yet now, before those blue eyes so very much like his own, words failed him and he could only shake his head, shame holding him to silence.

"I'm sorry…" his son murmured at last, eyes turning down, though Vader did not know whether it was regret that he had asked, or at his father's unforgivable actions.

Vader took another step back, trying to deny the emotions which threatened to overwhelm him now. "You… should go."

His son looked up at that, and Vader found the excuse to support his words, "You've been here too long already; the Emperor will know."

It didn't fool the boy - not for a second - but he looked away and stepped back, prepared to give his father the space he needed. "Of course. Will you be here when I return?"

"I would imagine." Vader replied, "The capture of Mon Mothma will be a major event. The Emperor will want everyone in attendance when he receives his new toy."

The boy looked away, uneasy again, face and sense haunted by tearing uncertainties.

"You are doing the right thing." Vader assured.

"No, I'm doing the wrong thing." His son replied quietly, looking to his mothers' ring, "But I believe it's necessary."

He turned to depart, and Vader blurted out the words, unwilling to allow this to end on such a bleak note, "I loved her - very much."

The words stopped Luke in his tracks, shaking him to the core, twisting his stomach and burning deep in his chest, mind buzzing in shock at the revelation. Darkness _did not love_. The word was anathema- unthinkable; impossible.

"What am I to do with that?" he asked at last without turning .

"Learn from it." Vader said bleakly, bringing Luke's gaze back to him. "We are…solitary creatures by necessity. We can only destroy that which we value."

Luke remained silent, so Vader pressed, "You _cannot_ be close to another- you _cannot_ allow another to be close to you." It had been a devastating, irretrievable mistake and Vader wished to spare his son the misery of regrets which had plagued his own life for as long as he could remember. "Failure is inevitable and the consequences will spiral from your control."

Luke glanced away uneasily, wilfully refusing to understand, setting forward again only to pause at the threshold of the door, unable to leave such a damning prediction hanging over his head.

"I am not you." He murmured, as much to himself as his father.

Then, not wishing to leave under the shadow of discord as he so often had in the past, he offered, "Goodnight, father." He glanced again to the ring, "And thank-you."

Vader remained still as his son left the room, all his frustrations dissipated by that one short sentence- _"Goodnight, father. Thank-you."_

It was the first time that his son had ever said those words - and meant them. Everything else paled by comparison.


	11. Chapter 11

Luke gazed quietly out of the wide viewport in his ready-room to the rear of the Peerless' bridge, back straight, muscles tense, eyes set in the middle distance, seeing nothing, possessed of the kind of kinetic stillness which alluded to at the coming storm.

General Veers was on his way to his ready-room and Luke was… considering his options.

Reece, aware of the larger picture and of Luke's antipathy towards the General, had wisely gone out of his way to find constant tasks for Veers to attend far from the bridge since Luke's return to the Peerless, hoping Luke's temper would cool before he needed to deal with the General in person. The reason that Reece had quoted - that since Luke had seen Veers leaving the Emperor's presence he should, to all intents and purposes, be considered to be under Palpatine's protection - was a valid one, and it had stayed Luke's hand for almost ten hours now, but less than a day into the journey the black knot which had been steadily growing in his stomach could no longer be ignored.

He could of course dispel this situation in any number of ways, he knew; he could play the game, take the hit, chalk this one up to experience and learn his lesson... but the lesson which was whispering so insistently in the back of his thoughts right now was this; Never to leave an enemy at your back.

In truth he had, at the end of the day, achieved all he'd wanted; he was on his way to Bothawuii and a rendezvous with Mothma- and Madine.

But then there was that one point, still whispering... _Never_ _leave an enemy at your back_.  
If he did nothing now… had he learned nothing?

It had occurred to Luke to give Veers temporary command of the Fury during the coming mission, knowing this wasn't the General's forte and therefore Luke may well find an excuse for retribution.

He could easily validate the command; The Fury was set to go after Madine and Veers had worked alongside Madine several times when th eRebel General was still an Imperial officer. He could validate it by claiming that it took a General to catch a General - that Veers would have a better insight than anyone here into Madine's mind. He could offer the command as an opportunity for Veers to show his new Commander what he could do.

It was the ideal situation; if Veers succeeded, which Luke very much doubted considering that his milieu was ground-based battle, then Luke gained Madine. If he failed, then Luke had the perfect excuse to remove Veers- permanently.

It was playing the game, and he knew how to do that so well now- even when it burned him up inside to do so.

Or he could play a different game- could choose not to see Veers at all and simply begin to feed the General a string of ever-more outlandish nuggets of false information until Palpatine realised that his mole had long since been discovered and Luke was now simply playing a game. Load veers up with contradictory, inaccurate, illogical trivia and send him back to the Emperor- force him to deal with the problem he had created.  
In a cool, calmer mood that was probably that he would have done. But he wasn't calm and he wasn't in a mood for games, and all of his qualms about more direct action were long since spent.

Once he would have held back because he felt he had something to loose; integrity, the moral high-ground- whatever. The man who had so pitilessly and fastidiously stripped those traits away from him would do well to remember that; to bear in mind the inevitable outcome of creating his precious advocate.

Because that was the trouble with owning a wolf; every now and then without any warning…

it would just turn around and bite.

.

The door to Luke's ready-room sounded an entry chime then opened for Veers step inside.

He was hardly in the room before Luke turned on him, the power of the Force-blow sending him flying back against the wall with a resounding '_thud'_. He lay on the floor, winded, looking up to see The Commander stalking towards him, eyes ablaze.

Luke crouched down to grab the breathless Veers by the scruff of his uniform, hauling him roughly upright, powering back against the wall again, any consideration of the moderate path already lost in a haze of vehement fury at the sight of the man who had wheedled his way into Luke's staff, lost Luke a valuable senior officer and so nearly obliterated months of groundwork and preparation in his own self-serving ambition.

"I thought I made myself very clear, Veers." Luke growled through clenched jaw.

"Sir, I don't…" an incredible weight crushed against his chest and windpipe, pushing the air from Veer's lungs in a gasp, widening his eyes.

"I don't want to hear - I don't care what worthless little excuse you've spent the last week dreaming up - it won't save your life."

"Nnnn…"

Veers grabbed weakly at the incensed Commanders hands, still grasping the front of his jacket, and Luke narrowed his eyes, unmoved. "I thought I explained very carefully the consequences of informing on me."

Again Veers struggled to speak, weaker now, "Wasssnn't…m…"

Luke kept the pressure for a few seconds more, unwilling to break off the attack… then he turned, the General dropping forward onto his knees, pulling in huge gulps of air.

Luke started toward his desk and the chair before it slid back towards him without visible aid. Veers, still gasping, shouted out in shock as he was suddenly hauled about, his body dragged by the Force towards the chair and thrown into it with enough power to topple the chair backwards, Luke twisting about to catch the back one-handed and haul it back upright before it fell, Veers almost toppling forward out of it, white-knuckled hands clinging to the chair's arms.

"You have just seconds of my time, Veers, so I suggest you make it interesting- I have a very short attention span." He leaned down to the cowering General from behind, "Go."

"I didn't do it…"

"You don't know what I've accused you of yet." Luke countered, standing behind the terrified man.

"I haven't done anything- I'm not active at the…"

"So you were intending to?"

"I…" Veers fell to desperate silence, then, "Spies! There are five active spies onb…"

"There are seven." Luke corrected, hands clamping onto Veers shoulders from behind. "But names would be interesting."

"Uuuh…" Veers struggled to remember, " Sinsa…Ogo…uhhhh…"

"Faster." Luke whispered, leaning in, using the Force to begin a gradual downward pressure on Veers' chest.

"N..uhhh Ni…Ni…"

"Nishima." Luke whispered. "Another?"

"Jiddick!...Jiddick and… Findallen."

Luke rose, though he maintained the Force-pressure against Veers, "Apparently there are eight. Thank-you."

Veers struggled to raise his arms, still pinned to the chair, breaths coming in short gasps now, "Sir..Sir, I didn't.. didn't do it! Whatever it is… it wasn't me…"

Still maintaining the force-pressure, Luke walked slowly to the tall viewport behind his desk, gazing out, his voice calm and cold, "I'd like to believe you, Veers, I really would. But the fact remains that even if you didn't do it this time, you would, eventually. And everything I suspect you of here, you've already done onboard my father's ship."

Veers turned slightly at that, eyes wide, "Father…"

"Lord Vader." Luke said easily, turning just slightly to observe the shocked look in the General's eyes, wondering if he comprehended that this forbidden piece of knowledge had now sealed his fate. "You may not have crossed me yet, but you've crossed mine - so you can understand why I don't like you, Veers. You can understand why I'm hard-pressed to let you walk out of here."

"My.. Lord…" Veers strained to even talk now-

"You know, I was once a tolerant man - very tolerant." Luke's voice was quiet, lost in thought as he turned back to gaze out into the endless darkness. "Perhaps because I believed I was doing the right thing..."

There was a dull '_cr-ack'_, the wet splinter of bone muffled by flesh, and with a final, broken gasp Veers crumpled forward, falling deadweight from the chair, his final breath driven from his lungs by the impact.

"I don't anymore." Luke said simply, no trace of regret in his voice.

.

.

.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

.

.

"Sir, we're coming up to reversion." Admiral Joss stepped close to The Heir before he spoke, the bridge crew hunching studiously over the unfamiliar consoles of the modified freighter, staring intently at readouts with the grim, single-minded concentration of men trying hard not to be noticed.

General Veer's demise several days earlier had caused a buzz of trepidation about the Peerless, all the senior officers feeling the wind blow, so that although Joss was confident in his own immunity, his loyalties to The Heir long-since decided and declared, he too felt a little jittery in the wake of recent… actions.

The Heir had of course, taken the time to explain to those who were loyal that Veers was the Emperor's spy, and indeed Joss remembered having been informed of such by Commander Reece within a few weeks of Veer's arrival, long before the campaign against the Bothans' had even commenced. Still, The Heir's method of removing his spies left one a little… anxious when dealing with him.

Leadership, they had taught Admiral Joss on the Imperial Military Academy on Carida, was part respect, part fear. One should learn to inspire respect in those who are loyal, and fear in those who are not- and if a little fear was scattered around the feet of the faithful, then that too commanded a healthy respect.

Certainly the Admiral felt just that as The Heir turned to him now, gaze as calm and impassive as ever.

"Thank-you Admiral. Have the crews stand by. Verify that we're all present and correct then contact the Peerless and the Executor and confirm our arrival. All further comms are by running lights only until we've secured our target."

Joss voiced his confirmation, turning to the bridge officers to ensure that they had heard as the battered freighter dropped out of hyperspace at the busy outer orbit ring well beyond the distant Col Dinn orbital platform, responsible for all shipping, handling and duty processing for Bothawuii's planetary cargo, it and its two accompanying freighters immediately lost in the bustle of the loose groupings of freighters waiting for their turn at the Col Din platform.

They were running with what Joss would normally have considered to be a skeleton crew aboard one of the three anonymous, battered freighters that had rendezvoused with them at Obrai-Skai, though there were ten units of the 701st in the hold awaiting the green light, the dozen or so Bothan and Chadra-Fan crewers which the smuggler Karrde had provided along with his carefully camouflaged freighters looking decidedly and deservedly nervous in their company the last time Joss had been down to the hold to check preparations.

The Heir turned, pulling the black leather gloves he wore tight as he flexed his fingers, glancing up as Joss stepped back to his side, "Move to secure channel only. Let me know when the Fury is in place and our friends arrive. We'll go dark at that point."

Joss nodded, glancing to Mara Jade who hovered nearby, listening vaguely, re-checking the small holdout blaster she occasionally wore strapped to her wrist, a special-forces blaster rifle already slung over her shoulder.

Aware of his eyes on her, Mara glanced up at the Admiral, mind too locked on the moment to be bothered looking for clues as to what he was thinking. He raised his eyebrows just fractionally at her though, and the inference was clear; do your job- keep him safe.

It wasn't at all unusual for Luke to accompany ground troops on this kind of operation; in fact it was par for the course, but his would be his first sortie since his injury, and with Reece still onboard the Peerless, Mara would be his sole bodyguard. The strain of this knowledge was already beginning to pull her edgy nerves taught; Skywalker disliked having bodyguards at the best of times and two sets of eyes were far more able to keep up if he took it upon himself to leave them behind, as he had a habit of doing.

Still, his insistence on not only planning and overseeing but very often participating in field missions was one of the reasons why Skywalker had gained such a solid base of popularity among the military, Mara knew; his day-to-day presence in the Core Fleet, only ever returning to Coruscant under direct orders from the Emperor, meant that he was considered very much a 'military man', with real field experience and genuine tactical ability. The military were essentially pack animals, and there was nothing inspired loyalty like a sense of fraternity. Skywalker's willingness to listen to advice from those with experience also stood him in good stead, as did his backing of and faith in the senior officers he trusted, all factors which Mara hadn't failed to notice he'd been subtly underscoring of late.

"I'm sure I can leave things in your capable hands, Admiral." Skywalker said, glancing to Joss as he passed, casually confident. "Now... find me a freighter running under the name _Attin'Cho_- passive scan only."

.

.

"Ma-am- we have the freighter Attin'Cho on our scopes; bearing one-seventy by fifty-eight by nine-oh-one."

Captain Wyatt turned to her helm officer, her low, measured Mon Calamari tones making her words seem far more solemn then they were.

"Send a greeting and transmit the Alliance code within it. Keep us a good space behind that forward freighter." she added, bulbous head nodding in the direction of the freighter in the 'stack' before them, already aware that another dilapidated freighter had cruised slowly into the space behind them, half its running lights inactive.

But she wasn't too worried; they had chosen their queueing stack with care; one to the outside of the roughly-queueing cluster of weary freighters, all waiting to pay their duty and unload their cargo so they could fill up for the next haul. The Alliance freighter, battered and merchant-rigged, fitted into the bustle of the large port without notice, staying on practically the outermost stack, a good-sized exit to deep space to their port side. "Any sign of any trouble?"

"None, Sir. All the boards are clear, and the Sol has just sent confirmation that they're docking in order to load. They have one Star Destroyer near the Col Din Orbital Platform, close to them."

That brought Wyatt's head around, as well as Leia and Mon's.

"Does he foresee any problems?" Leia asked tensely- like Wyatt she'd originally been puzzled by Mothma's choice of Madine as commander of this operation; he was ex-Imperial army, and well-trained, but he wasn't generally placed in charge of a space-based mission, which came under the Navy's remit. She hadn't questioned it too much though, knowing that Mon and Madine often worked closely together, Mon relying on both his abilities and his opinion.

It was only during the jump here that they had been called into a meeting in which Mon had explained Madine's mission whilst she met Ollin'yaa; technology garnered in a deep-cover covert operation by the Bothans was to be transferred from the Col Din Orbital Platform to the second freighter, the Sol, commanded by Madine. The nature of that technology had opened Leia's eyes wide-

The Empire's new weapon, a Dynamic Electromagnetic Pulse Generator, was being built in the closely-guarded military docks in the Imperial Shipyards at Bilbringi, in readiness to be loaded into the new Super Star Destroyer Invincible, due to launch later that year. Madine was responsible for loading two duplicates of the weapon onto the Sol, secretly built at a separate site in concert with the Imperial original, using information from several spies within the shipyards.

This was an incredible break for the Alliance, and although the weapons couldn't yet be safely fired, they were already committed to an upcoming assault, the nature of which neither Mon nor Madine were willing to discuss, citing the ongoing problem of information leaks, leaving Leia uncomfortably aware that she had been excluded from this loop- which meant that she was in some way implicated.

Something to worry about later. Now however, her mind was on the success of the missions - both of them. If there was a chance that either mission would encounter difficulties, then Madine needed to abort his mission now rather than compromise it and lose the DEMP generators or alert the Empire that they had them. Everyone waited, eyes on the comm officer.

"Ma'am, the General reports that the Destroyer is in a standard holding pattern on the edge of their scanners; he says he's confident that there's no further risk implied by its presence. The Bothans say its been there for almost two days."

Leia turned to Mon, who relaxed a little, raising her eyebrows.

"Fine." Leia replied, "Acknowledge the message and tell him we're going dark now. We'll contact him when the meeting is over." Then, unable to shake some uneasy misgivings, added, "Ask him to break comm silence and let me know immediately if the Star Destroyer leaves Col Din."

She didn't like the fact that the Destroyer was at Col Din Platform; it had, after all, been the supposed rendezvous point for the meeting between Mothma and the Bothan leader, Ollin'yaa. It had been changed at the very last moment by an encrypted message from Intel Chief Tag Massa, who had chosen the new site herself; an innocuous tramp-freighter park well outside the Col Din platform consisting at any given time of about fifty or so dilapidated mid-size freighters and worse-for-wear merchant vessels huddled together in a synchronous orbit waiting for permission to unload their cargo.

There were always several of these unofficial parks about any industrialised planet, Imperial Customs never quite up to speed in checking permits and authorising permission to unload. If one was willing to pay a little extra, the necessary access to the Col Din platform for required customs checks could always be speeded up, but many of the smaller haulage companies simply didn't have the profit margins to oblige, and so these loose unofficial clusters of ships huddled together to wait out permission, crew members travelling constantly from ship to ship with little regard for procedure, catching up on trade gossip with fellow-hauliers.

It was a nice, nondescript, easily-escapable setup - and a commonplace one too, likely to attract little attention. With less than an hour to go Chief Massa had named this particular cluster with care, providing ample opportunity for their Bothan contact onboard the Attin'Cho to make his unanticipated in-system jump from Col Din to the new co-ordinates- and for either Madine onboard the Sol or Leia and Mon onboard the Arcturus to do the same, should either need back-up.

The comm officer nodded as the Arcturus slowed, dropping into place in the losely-queueing starships, another dilapidated, rusted freighter which hovered to starboard seeming momentarily to be going backwards due to its stationary position beside the slowly-advancing Arcturus. The comm officer glanced to the side, then added, "We have the confirmation code from the Attin'Cho, along with docking co-ordinates. Commander Ollin'yaa sends his greetings, Chief Mothma, and invites you aboard."

Mon turned to Leia, smiling, "I'll leave things here in your capable hands."

Leia smiled at the compliment, watching Mon walk from the bridge of the disguised freighter, unable to shake the feeling that something… _something_...

.

Mon walked sedately from the shuttle now docked in the Attin'Cho's small hold, three Bothans waiting at the end of the ramp now, an irregular line of several others forming an Honour-Guard, a few Humans and a Devaronian making up the line. The trip over had taken less than five minutes, only one freighter between the Arcturus and the Attin'Cho, and that clearly trying to jockey a position forward of them, pinned in from starboard by a large, ponderously slow merchant vessel just as the Arcturus was. Mon glanced momentarily at the reassuringly open depths of space visible beyond the docking bay, the pale corona of Bothawuii just perceptible at its edges. If they had to make a run for it, then the Attin'Cho was well-placed to do so.

"Good afternoon, Chief Mothma," The first Bothan said easily, stepping forward, his fur rustling forward then back in the Bothan equivalent of a nervous tic.

Mon smiled politely, pretending not to notice, holding her hand out to the nervous Bothan who took it in his own, gesturing for her to continue, "You must forgive us - we aren't used to having so illustrious-a guest on board our humble transport. We believed we were simply transporting Commander Ollin'yaa to the Col Din Platform. We had little time to make preparations."

"No special preparations are necessary…?"

"Forgive me, Chief Mothma- my name is T'indarr- I'm Ollin'yaa's aide." The Bothan clearly realised from Mon's pause that he'd failed to introduce himself, another ripple brushing his pale fur. "If you'd follow me, I'd be honoured to take you to the Commander now."

Mon nodded politely, setting forward with the Bothan and his two companions, her own guard of six Rebel Special Ops soldiers falling in behind her. The Bothan pointedly didn't look back or mention them.

They walked only a short distance into the ship, very few crew in evidence, only a few Bothans and a Chadra-Fan pausing as they passed by, bowing their heads respectfully, the Bothan's fur rippling in a motion Mon recognised from long experience with the species to be nervous curiosity. She nodded easily as she walked by, always the politician.

Finally T'indarr paused before a room, reaching out his hand to rest dramatically on the door release, waiting for Mon and her entourage to catch up.

The door slid open… and Mon stopped dead.

The Bothan Commander Ollin'yaa, whom she had come to meet, sat tensely in a chair at the far side of the room-

Around him, weapons held ready, were two phalanxes of stormtroopers, their blue pauldrons identifying them as units from the 701st... And stood just behind him, hands on Ollin'yaa's shoulders… was Skywalker.

There was a flurry of sound and motion behind her as her guards drew their weapons, and Skywalker's sharp eyes flicked from Mon towards them - a sickening smack sounded behind her as bodies hit the walls, not one shot fired before they fell to the floor, unconscious or dead; she didn't know which.  
Mon flinched just slightly at that indecipherable crack of bones and armour, but remained motionless as those cold blue eyes came back to her own and a slow half-smile spread across his scarred face.

"Hello, Mon."


	12. Chapter 12

Leia resisted the urge to pace the Arcturus' bridge, aware that she was making Wyatt uneasy. Why exactly, she had no idea- everything was going exactly as planned.

They had a positive sighting of Vader's main fleet almost two hours at lightspeed from here, and every other Rim Fleet Destroyer could be accounted for. Nothing was within striking distance, save for the Star Destroyer at Col Din of course, but Madine would let them know the moment that it made any kind of move. Again a stray concern worried at the edges of Leia's mind but she couldn't lock it down, try as she might, her thoughts with Mon Mothma.

"Any problems?" she prompted Wyatt, walking up close to peer out of the viewscreen at the jumble of decrepit freighters waiting for permission to unload. Her eyes locked on the Attin'Cho, clearly visible around the rusting bulk of the freighter between them.

The Mon Calamari shook her head, bulbous eyes remaining on Leia, "None." She replied simply, though her tone indicated she was willing to be led by Leia on this.

But what could she offer? Mon's shuttle had landed and sent back the short confirmation code that all was well, as agreed. The Bothan leader Mon was coming to reassure had accepted the change of venue without rancour, the Attin'Cho making a short jump out and back into the system in order to clear the mass of Bothawuii, the meeting now taking place on his transport, whilst Madine continued to load the Generators from another Bothan transport onto the Rebel freighter Sol.

Everything was going exactly as planned - so why did she have the creeping feeling that….

"Ma'am, I have General Madine on the comm." Leia swing round to the comm officer, but it was Wyatt who spoke first.

"Put it on speaker." She said quickly, stepping to the centre of the small freighter's bridge, "General?"

Madine's voice was tight and urgent as he spoke, "Where's Chief Mothma?"

Leia walked into the mic's pickup range, "She's on the Attin'Cho. Why?"

"The Star Destroyer here - it's The Fury. It isn't part of the Rim Fleet, it's a Core Fleet vessel. It travels with the Peerless!"

That was what had been niggling her - _all the Rim Fleet Destroyers were accounted for _- how could there be one here? The full meaning of Madine's words seeped in then; the Peerless was Skywalker's Super Star Destroyer. Leia's stomach tightened into a knot. "You're sure?"

"It's not transmitting ID, but the Bothans did a close fly-by. They said it has Torrin manoeuvre thrusters from Soro-Sub. That puts it less than three years old, and it has a mark-nine transmitter array, plus Mytor equatorial heavy gun-emplacements. It's the Fury."

Leia's heart skipped a beat as she turned to Wyatt, breathless, "Contact the Attin'Cho; tell them to get Mon out and go to lightspeed; we'll fly interference. Launch the fighters to protect the Attin'Cho's exit- we'll brief them whilst they fly. Bring us around this thing." She indicated the decrepit freighter before them as the Arcturus' deck-plates began to vibrate, her engines firing into life. Leia turned her thoughts back to Madine, "General, are you finished loading?"

There was a short delay whilst Madine confirmed this, "About three minutes. We're too far in to be able to abort. We'll let you know before we're ready to make the jump to your position."

Leia didn't bother to tell him to hurry.

"Fighters have launched." Wyatt announced sharply, part of the freighter's main viewscreen overlaying with a limited, retro-fitted military-style heads-up tactical.

"Ma'am - the Attin'Cho is powering up. Our fighters are closing to escort positions."

The Attin'Cho had turned ponderously on her axis, coming about toward the stretch of open space when Leia felt something tickle at the back of her thoughts, turning back to the Mon Cal Captain, "Wyatt- did we get confirmation from the Attin'Cho?"

Wyatt frowned at the comm officer, who nodded.

"Yes, Ma-am."

Then why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end? "Tell them we need to speak to Chief Mothma- urgently."

The comm officer nodded, passing the request on. Leia turned back to the Attin'Cho, still powering away with Red and Blue fighter groups flying escort.

_Something_…

"Have they acknowledged the request?" Leia asked.

"Yes Ma-am. They say Chief Mothma's on her way up to the bridge now."

Too slow- Leia shook her head, "Tell them to patch us through to her comlink. Now."

The nervous comm officer nodded, speaking into her pick-up. She glanced up, "They're patching us through now…"

"Put it on speaker."

Everyone waited, the low hiss of background noise indicating that the line was open, the tense, human voice of the Attin'Cho's comm officer announcing, "Standby, Arcturus… Patching you through now……..

Leia waited, chewing her nail…

"Standby………………………………."

Too slow. _Make the choice, Leia - make the call_. She watched the Attin'Cho push for open space, Rebel fighters protecting her, almost clear of everything now…

Clear of everything… including them!

"Tell the fighters to pull back - closed frequency. Tell them to take out the Attin'Cho's engines." Everyone on the bridge turned to Leia, horrified. "Do it!"

The comm officer turned to Captain Wyatt for support, but the Mon Cal nodded assent, comm turning back to relay the command, having to repeat it since it was clearly queried by the Flight Commanders, Han's voice clearly audible from where Leia stood; "Command, this is Blue Flight- could you repeat that?"

Seconds later both flights pulled back, turning on a tight axis to come up behind the Attin'Cho.

"Bring us about-" Leia said tightly, "Get us to the Attin'Cho- quickly." If they could get there immediately, they had easily enough firepower to bring the bulky freighter to a stop.

Their viewscreen wheeled in a deliberate, stomach-churning inverted turn as the Arcturus manouevred to bring the Attin'Cho to the centre of the screen again - and all hell broke loose.

Suddenly everything seemed to be moving, several other freighters powering up their engines and starting forward.

"What the hell's happening!!" Wyatt's gravelly voice topped out in surprise.

"I scan three heavy freighters on the move…" an officer announced tightly as previously innocuous freighters suddenly powered forward to barricade the gap between the Arcturus and the Attin'Cho, "They're boxing us out, away from the Attin…"

The rusty bulk freighter which had been creeping in to starboard was powering toward them at a rate of knots now, on an obvious collision course. Twice their size, it forced Wyatt's hand, "All stop- take evasive manoeuvres. Try to bring us over this one." She was indicating the freighter before them which had previously seemed to be trying to do nothing more suspicious than pull ahead in the line, but was now clearly manoeuvring side-on to them, hindering them further, another two freighters to their port side confusing things further by trying hard to get out of the way of what was clearly becoming a ship-to-ship fight.

"Ma-am, we have multiple energy signatures from the forward vessel! What the.. Wait - the freighter's launching TIE's!!"

Their clear exit was gone, blocked in by the bulk of the two merchant vessels now obscuring the Attin'Cho, the Arcturus beginning to manoeuvre in an attempt to keep a clear view, though it was becoming harder s the two unknown freighters closed, the Arcturus's only exit now in the opposite direction to that which the Attin'Cho was flying.  
And now the seemingly-innocuous freighter which had been turning side-on before them spewed forth scores of TIE's from its main docking bay, two wings of which came swarming in towards the Arcturus, ion cannons blazing, drawing the A- and X-Wings from their action.

"No!" Leia shouted, stepping forward, "Tell all our fighters to follow orders! Tell them to stop the Attin'Cho before it breaks clear."

She knew damn well that this would leave her freighter vulnerable, but at this point, she had only one objective - and it was presently powering away from her at speed, with the leader fo the Rebel Alliance onboard.

.

Luke watched dispassionately from the bridge of the Attin'Cho as the first wave of TIE's exited from the first of Talon Karrde's hired freighters just aft of his position, drawing the Rebel fighters away from the commandeered Bothan freighter, now in Imperial hands.

The second hired freighter was already moving into an intercept course with the Rebel ship Arcturus, effectively blocking any chance the Rebels had to follow the Attin'Cho, Karrde's third freighter coming up behind them now, though he doubted they'd spotted it as yet.

"Sir, we're clear of the stack- lightspeed co-ordinates programmed." the Imperial Helm Officer looked expectantly to Luke. The whole bridge was now commanded by Imperial military of course, only the original Bothan Captain remaining, four stormtroopers guarding him, just in case some coded acknowledgment had been required whilst the ship began to creep clear of its Rebel counterpart. He'd already pulled two sets of codes from the unwilling Bothan's mind to get Mothma here without suspicion.

"Stay a while yet, Helm." Luke said easily without turning from the battle, which was very pointedly following them as they powered ponderously away from the freighter stack, everything moving painfully slowly compared to the speed and manoeuvrability of Capital Ships. "I want the Rebel ship to remain here until the Fury can pick her up, and she won't do that if she has no reason to stay. Let them think they might just reach us yet."

"Sir, the aft shields are sustaining damage from Rebel fighters." Ops announced, looking up, awaiting orders.

Luke didn't turn, still at ease, unaffected by the news, "Contact Freighter Three- tell them to release their TIE's and send them to our position. Have them engage the Rebel fighters."

Mara took a half step toward him but managed to hold her tongue, worried that they'd lose the prize Luke had planned so carefully to gain, the Bothan ship hardly up to this kind of punishing treatment.

He glanced sideways to her, unruffled, murmuring, "The Fury is minutes away - a few snub-nose fighters can't destroy our engines, land in our only docking bay, fight through ten stormtrooper units, find Mothma and get back to their own ship in that amount of time - but they could jump to lightspeed and escape without her."

"You're risking Mothma to catch Madine." Mara murmured in reply, aware that he was staying here simply to hold the Rebel freighter's interest.

Skywalker turned away dismissively, but that composed voice had a hard edge to it as he spoke, "Let them come- no-one's taking Mothma."

Mara frowned just slightly, wondering whether he actually wanted them to try… this had all gone perfectly; a textbook operation, well-planned but with flexibility, contingencies in place. So much so that in the actual event, he'd had nothing more to do than stand on the bridge and give out orders calculated months in advance. He was spoiling for a fight and she knew it.

The question was; did he? Would he throw it all away simply because he wanted a challenge?

She'd just opened her mouth to voice this when a flicker of motion at the corner of the viewscreen drew both their eyes.

"Sir, the Fury's arrived to port. She's requesting orders."

"Tell her to launch TIE's - see if it will draw the Rebel fighters off us."

"The Fury acknowledges, Sir. They're launching three squadrons now."

"Sir, enemy fighters are driving us off-course- three degrees st…"

"Correct it." Luke ordered, turning to the Helm Officer, the ramshackle freighter beginning to buck slightly beneath their feet as heavy laser fire hit home from close range. "Stay on-course for the lightspeed jump."

He turned back to the comm, "Tell the Fury that the Rebel freighter is boxed in - have her move around to a clear line and engage tractor beams - I want that ship."

He'd barely finished before Ops called out, "Sir, the Alliance fighters are staying with us- we have a partial failure of the aft shields- engine shields are critical."

In the middle of all this pandemonium Luke glanced momentarily at the man, aware that in the pressure of the moment he had said 'Alliance' and not 'Rebel'; making a mental note that the Ops officer may be a Rebel spy. "Tile remaining shields to compensate." he ordered, turning casually away to Comm, "Is the Fury in position?"

"She estimates another minute, Sir."

"Divert power from the forward shields to shore the aft. Tell Freighter One to come up behind our engines to protect us from strafing runs. "

"TIE fighters are engaging the enemy… Sir, the Rebel freighter is pulling away."

Luke turned, "Will she make it clear before the Fury locks on?"

There was a brief, tense pause as Ops ran simulations, "No, Sir. The Fury has the edge."

"Sir, aft shields three and eight have failed- shield four is critical."

The failure of a single shield was bad enough, but manageable by tiling adjacent shields to reduce the unshielded area- if shield four failed combined with three however, it would give a sizeable hole to aim for if the Rebels took another run at the engines. Luke glanced knowingly to Mara; "Time for us to leave, I think."

He didn't bother giving the order; Mara turned instantly to Helm, "Contact Freighter One then engage lightspeed engines."

The stars before them turned to streaks as the Attin'Cho powered away with her prize, leaving the battle behind in a distant blur of light.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**.**

**.**

The two battered freighters hugged close together well away from recognised shipping lanes but still in Bothan space, proof of their close shave already written across the hull plates of the larger vessel in the form of multiple dark carbon streaks, a sure indicator of mid-gauge laser cannon fire.

In the Ready-Room of Madine's freighter, the Sol, still relatively undamaged compared to the Arcturus, Leia Organa, Han Solo and General Crix Madine were equally huddled, still trying to figure out just exactly what went so catastrophically wrong.

And more importantly, how to put it right again.

"I'll tell you what we're gonna use," Han Solo said, as cock-sure now as he always was, seriously disgruntled at the fact that they had not only lost Mon aboard the Attin'Cho, but almost lost the Arcturus, and Leia with it, when the Star Destroyer Fury, which had been languishing at the Col Din platform near the unrecognized Sol, had replied to a summons on Imperial channels by the Attin'Cho and pulled a virtual slingshot around Bothawuii to get to Leia's ship. Only the arrival of the Sol, knowing instantly where the Fury had gone and having just barely loaded their cargo, had saved her.

Solo looked to Madine, still fuming, "We're gonna use that damn thing that we all risked our necks so you could sneak off and pick it up today."

The General paused, considering; they'd gained two valuable weapons today, as well as invaluable intelligence - the only problem was, they were in no position to use either yet. "We have no way to deploy the DEMP generators from the ships we're in now- nothing with sufficiently hardened systems."

"We'll deploy them from here." Han argued, unmoved.

Madine frowned, "If we use them now, we've lost them - we'll never get them restored in time to go after the Invincible. Plus we've lost the element of surprise- they're presently unaware that we have them at all."

"So that's what you want 'em for- the Invincible." Han said, prompting a momentary tightening of Madine's jaw at his frustration of having let that out in present company. The Empire's latest Super Star Destroyer was due to be launched in five month's time, itself fitted with DEMP technology - the only ship in existence that was. Han remained unrepentant, "It comes down to this General; which do you want more- the Invincible or Mon Mothma?"

The General looked away, sighing, clearly unconvinced.

"Do we have any reason to assume that any Star Destroyer in the fleet is hardened against DEMP technology yet?" Leia prompted, looking for a clear path.

"No." Madine said, "To our knowledge, none of the fleet has yet taken the time in spacedock necessary to have all upgrades implemented. All that manpower's gone into having the Invincible ready on time."

"Not even the Peerless?" Leia said, aware that it had been the Fury who had been at Bothawui, a Destroyer know to travel in The Heir's attachment; perhaps the Peerless was involved too.

"No." Madine glanced to his fellow Corellian then back to Leia, who was very much aware that in Mon's absence, she had become the de-facto Commander-in-Chief. "However, let me point out the flaws in this plan; firstly, we haven't tested the DEMP generators we just received from the Bothans, nor have we recalibrated them following their transit. Secondly, we have no _solid_ proof that the Fury is vulnerable. Thirdly, we are very, very sure that both the Sol and the Arcturus _are _vulnerable and if we fire the DEMP both will be damaged beyond repair. And finally, even if all these things were resolved, we still have no idea where Chief Mothma is."

They'd made contact with Home-One as soon as the Arcturus and the Sol had exited their short hyperspace jump; the Fury had gone to lightspeed within minutes of their own narrow escape, clearly with another destination in mind, firinf Leia's worry that perhaps the Peerless was involved too. Informed of Mon's capture, the Rebel baseship had immediately initiated an all-points search for the Fury as well as establishing that both the Peerless and the Executor had entered hyperspace, which rendered them untraceable until they reverted to relspace - and both had been less than four hours from Leia's current location.

The Fury and the Attin'Cho, were nowhere to be seen - and the Alliance had a _lot_ of ships scattered, looking for them right now.

"I'll tell you where she is," Han said without hesitation, "She's onboard the Fury. The'd never risk keeping her on a freighter when they had a big fat Star Destroyer just waiting to go to their location. The Attin'Cho's already been abandoned somewhere or blasted into space-dust. She's onboard that Destroyer."

"Why the Fury… of all Destroyers, why the Fury?" Madine's logical mind was searching for reasons, playing the hunch which all good field Generals had- that this fact was important… somehow.

"The Fury is part of the Core Fleet." Leia said, stating the obvious in the hope of prompting some unanticipated realisation, "That's The Heir's fleet; it shouldn't even be out here."

Han shook his head, "Luke can't come this far out - we know that. The Fury must have left the Core Regions for this specific job and been in contact with the Peerless; last positon we have for it was right at the edge of the Core systems- almost as close as it could come. I'm guessing that's where the Fury's heading now."

Madine shook his head, "If they make it to the Peerless then we've lost Mothma. We can't make an attack in Core Space- and not on a Super Star Destroyer; it'd be suicide."

"How many ships do we have close enough to form a task-force, if the Fury came out of hyperspace close to the Peerless' last position?"

Madine didn't need to check, "None." he said, disgusted. "We were trying to keep a low presence in the area in the warm-up to Chief Mothma's meeting."

"I'm guessing the Executor's heading to the same rendezvous." Han said darkly, placing another hurdle in their path. Interesting though; that Luke and Vader seemed to be working together on this; the kid had never done that before.

"But theoretically…" Leia paused, glancing at the door; a second later, a quiet knock was heard.

She stared, momentarily uncertain how she'd known to look…

The door slid open, Captain Wyatt entering, her huge, glassy Mon Cal eyes full of hope, "We have a position for the Fury and the Attin'Cho - less than three hours from here - and they're alone."

.

Leia walked down to the Sol's hold on her way back to the shuttle which would return her to the Arcturus, the Sol already calculating the lightspeed jump which would take it to Mon Mothma and the Fury, Leia's own ship, the Arcturus, intending to follow just minutes behind. Pausing, Leia headed across the Sol's hold to where the two newly-gained Dynamic Electromagnetic Pulse generators were.

They were quite small really- roughly her own height, which wasn't that tall, and about twice as large round as her reach; a large sealed cylinder connected to a smaller one, the second coiled about by a fine, copper-colored alloy. Laid in clear support cradles on their sides, a series of delicate copper ariels extended and interhooked about soft, silicon-based processing units, they looked nothing at all; not particularly like a bomb or even an EMP weapon.

The 'techs were already swarming all over them, Chewie among those who were working on the first generator, the second remaining untouched as yet, almost concealed in its enclosed faraday cage.

"Chewie-" Han stepped around Leia, shouting across the bay as he ran forward, still in his pilot's gear after the debacle at Bothawuii. "How long?"

The massive Wookie turned, keening a guess, shrugging as he did so. Han kept on running, reaching the exposed generator and craning his neck to look at the reassuringly simple trigger mechanism hotwired in by the 'techs. Theoretically they knew how to work it and what the result would be if they threw that switch and _theoretically_, Dynamic EMP's did no damage to flesh and bone - but he didn't particularly relish the thought of being stood next to it when it went off. By the time Leia reached them, the conversation had moved on to the delay between triggering the forst and second DEMP's, the latter having already been fitted with a jury-rigged timer.

"… we don't know - that's the problem." Han continued, turning from Chewie to glance at Leia, "There's no telling how many systems the first pulse will bring down and we need to give enough time for full emergency power to cut in onboard the Fury otherwise the second DEMP won't knock it out. D'you have an estimate on how many systems it'll bring down?"

"All systems, we hope." Leia said, glancing up at the new technology, "Obviously not propulsion, but we think the safety cut-out will shut down the engines when it ceases to receive information from the automated regulating systems. We're pretty sure we'll take those down, even though they're hard-shielded."

Theoretically, the DEMP was little more than a kind of electromagnetic flux compression system with bells and whistles. What made it special was the Empire's development of an advanced dynamic access system, which made it capable of overriding and overrunning all previously safe, battle-hardened systems.

Unfortunately, it did so for a large radius… on _everything_ in the vicinity. Ships, deep space platforms- even surface planet-based technology if the DEMP was close enough.

_Any_ technology requiring integrated circuits, power conductors, anything with resistors, capacitors or remote connectors was killed. That included communication networks, signal processors, automated systems, flight control and digital engine regulation - _nothing_ was immune. If it was connected into the mainframe then it would be affected. If it was an active system when the DEMP blew, it was dead. Even the few systems onboard any starship that were purely mechanically-based and therefore theoretically immune generally relied on binary programs to monitor or regulate them, which would be burned out by the DEMP, so that though they remained functioning, there would be no way to control them remotely or even regulate them.

To any mainframe system, the damage would be wide-ranging and devastating - to something the size and complexity of a Capital Ship, the combined effects would be nothing short of catastrophic, system-wide failure.

This was the Empire's new toy, and it could leave any ship in any fleet older than the not-yet launched Invincible dead in space, the Peerless and the Executor first in line to have the necessary upgrades which would also render them immune. Designed specifically to be utilised by the newly-shielded systems onboard the technologically advanced new Super Star Destroyer, the data had been surreptitiously smuggled out by Bothan spies, two exact duplicate systems built, running apace with the Invincible's system being built at the Kuat Shipyards and taking advantage of any new data and any flaws which were corrected along the way.

It gave Leia a secret, self-satisfied buzz to know that its first use in field combat would not be _by_ a Star Destroyer, but _against_ one.

The only problem was they didn't have a sufficiently-shielded ship to use it _from_. That technology hadn't yet been aquired - and even if it had, they didn't have time to implement it today.

So they were going to use the Sol.

.

.

.

Luke strode briskly forward across the main access walkway on the bridge of the Fury, the Attin'Cho having just been taken into its main hold after its reversion to realspace, Karrde's two disguised freighters visible in the bridge viewports just forward and to port. The Fury's Captain, Kavanagh, bowed nervously as The Commander in Chief approached, uncertain of his fate.

"Explain." Luke said, head tilted to one side, dark hair falling before his mismatched eyes, one blue, one cast through with darkest brown near his heavy scar.

"Sir, a second Rebel ship came out of hyperspace behind us."

"A military Corvette?" Luke prompted, already knowing the answer, "A Frigate perhaps?"

The Captain paled even further, if that were possible, "No Sir, a… bulk freighter- heavily modified. We've now identified it as the Sol, a re-spec'd and upgraded Rebel freighter."

"What capacity?"

"Sir?"

"What capacity - how big was it?"

The man visibly swallowed against his dry mouth, "Fifty thousand, Sir."

"A Star Destroyer was stopped in its duty by fifty thousand cubics of _freighter_." Luke growled, voice low in disbelief, "I'm moved to wonder which side you're on, Captain."

"Sir, we had the Arcturus in tractor restraint, but the second Rebel ship emerged from hyperspace and came in from beneath our engines. It knocked out the tractor-beam array and…"

The Heir shook his head, eyes closed in dismissal, "Don't even try to explain, Captain." Luke stepped in slightly, eyes hard and unforgiving - but in the event, he only huffed, disappointed. Despite his words, Kavanagh was a good Captain and a loyal advocate, and that was always something worthy of recognition, regardless of Luke's frustration. And didn't they always say that any battle plan only survived as long as first contact? "If you're already in a hole, Kavanagh, you should know when to stop digging."

The Captain looked up, a glint of hope in his eyes. "Yes, Sir."

Luke sighed, letting the disappointment leave him with the breath. He turned to Mara, who had catwalked silently up behind him. "Do Intel have anything yet?"

Mara nodded, "They've confirmed that Madine was onboard the second freighter, which they've tentatively identified as the Sol. We don't know who was onboard the first freighter - possibly just Mothma and the freighter Captain."

Which pretty much negated the need to have captured the first freighter anyway, since Madine hadn't been onboard. Luke had actually known over two hours ago that the Fury had failed to capture its target, immediately ordering the Fury to his present location, well off any known shipping lanes on the edge of the Core and Rim borders, Nubia's distant sun casting the faintest of glows.

The Attin'Cho had been busy whilst waiting for the Fury to arrive, Luke clearly not yet willing to give up his chance to catch Madine. Thus, the Peerless, waiting at the edge of the Core Systems, had been placed on alert and Luke had surprised Mara by sending out a call to the Executor, which was only two hours away by lightspeed- quite a coincidence, to Mara's mind.

If Palpatine found out that this was because Skywalker and Vader were communicating behind his back, there would be hell to pay; so much so that Mara hesitated to put this suspicion in her report until she had proof one way or the other. Any unauthorised contact between the two was strictly forbidden; if the Emperor even suspected such it would be Skywalker who paid the penalty- and it would be severe.  
For the first time, Mara found herself torn between her loyalty to the Emperor and her developing amity with Skywalker; she didn't wish to be the one who took this to Palpatine. She would if she had to but still, she felt a certain… unease at the thought that it would be her who had informed on Luke - and he would know it.

She didn't wish to lose what she had - even if she didn't know quite what it was yet.

He turned to her now, expression thoughtful, "Order Intel to work on Mothma's guards; the Rebels who came onboard with her. I want to know what Madine was doing with the Sol at Col Din- why he wasn't with Mothma."

Mara shrugged, "Probably backup."

"Then he should have been closer." Luke shook his head, "And he should have arrived sooner when the Arcturus put out a distress call… what took him so long?"

_Good point_, Mara conceded, nodding, "Why don't we go straight to the source; Mothma will know."

"No; no-one's to go near Mothma." Luke said tightly.

Mara had already noted that since her capture, Skywalker had very pointedly avoided any contact with the Rebel leader, allowing no-one else near her either. Despite the Emperor's warning to Mara that she should monitor closely how much time Skywalker spent with the Rebel leader he had known so well, exactly the opposite seemed true; whether he was uncomfortable with her capture or whether he simply wanted nothing more to do with her, Mara wasn't certain. Either way it seemed strange that he now showed so little interest in that which he had invested so much time and effort in securing.

Still, she nodded now, already lifting her comlink from her belt.

"And tell them to find out who was commanding the Arcturus." Luke added before turning away, back to Kavanagh.

It was a more relevant question than it first seemed, Mara knew.

When he had found out that the Fury had failed to capture Madine, Luke had... well, first he'd flown into a temper - not the wild, uncontrolled rage which Mara associated with his father Vader's outbursts; this was something far more cold and calculating, so that by the time he'd calmed, he already had the outlines of a plan in mind.

He still wanted Madine and he clearly intended to go after him - using the one lure that he knew the General just couldn't pass up on.

To that end, he sent a short communiqué to Coruscant on a frequency which it was known the Rebellion monitored, using a code which Intel knew the Rebels had recently broken, acknowledging the capture of Mon Mothma and informing of his intention to remain at his present co-ordinates until the Fury had arrived as escort, at which point she would be taken onboard and he would cross the border to the Core Systems and transfer his prisoner to the Peerless for their return to Coruscant.  
He was, Mara realised, gambling that the Sol would be the nearest ship, knowing that if it was the Rebellion would try for an extraction in this brief window of opportunity - with Madine in command.

He'd also, strangely, taken Kavanagh to one side to request that the comm officer who had been in the unit which had boarded the Attin'cho be found something to do which would keep him occupied in the bowels of the ship for the next few hours, and for someone to be with him t make sure he had no view and no outside view and no access to ship's comms. Kavanagh had merely nodded, following orders, but Mara knew the careful exclusion of a suspected spy when she saw it. Luke had a habit of keeping them in active play rather than simply removing them, feeding them information until he felt their usefulness had come to an end.  
She'd wondered more than once in the past whether that was her role here too.

.

When the Executor arrived, dwarfing the Fury as she came in for a slow pass, Luke made the unprecedented move of heading down to the forward docking bay as a single shuttle made its way across to the Fury.

Mothma was already in the bay, surrounded by a phalanx of white-armoured stormtroopers, but Skywalker gave her barely a glance as he entered the bay, remaining to the far side, his attention on the incoming shuttle. When the tri-wing Lambda-class shuttle came to a stately landing inside the bay, six stormtroopers marched smartly down the ramp and Mara knew immediately who was inside.

Darth Vader stalked down, his height forcing him to bow his head slightly to clear the end of the ramp, and Mara was left standing - both mentally and physically - as Skywalker walked forward.

When she finally did manage to get her feet moving, a subtle move of Luke's hand told her to remain where she was, leaving her to frown in confusion- not particularly that she had been excluded from the conversation; even with Vader, that wasn't uncommon. Luke tended to keep all conversations private, even the most inane or adversarial, more out of a point of principle than any greater incentive. She was after all Palpatine's agent at the end of the day, and everyone present knew it.

No, what surprised her was firstly that Skywalker had come down to the bay at all - something he had _never_ done before - and secondly that he stepped forward to acknowledge Vader, the slight nod of his head as his father stepped onto the docking bay floor far more telling than his neutral body-language or his impassive face.

Mara watched closely as the two began a slow walk forward, but the pair spoke quietly and were past her too quickly for her to get any useful reading from Skywalker's lips as he spoke, and even if she had, it would have been at best a one-sided conversation.

.

Vader took a long look at Mothma, the woman he had spent so much time hunting through the vast Rim Systems, but she didn't look up and anyway, his conversation with his son was of greater importance. Strange- once nothing else would have mattered except catching this elusive quarry; now she was almost below notice, both for himself and more curiously, for his son, who had been made both pariah and prey by her command.

"Thank-you for coming at such short notice." The boy said, nothing more than filler to get them past the Emperor's little spy, Vader knew, her green eyes watching intently.

They had after all, made arrangements that he would remain close to the Bothawuii system, entering lightspeed and drawing even closer the moment the battle was launched in case he should be needed, which apparently he was though he couldn't see why; Mothma was in custody and the Fury was halfway back to the Core Systems. Why Luke had stopped here at all was a mystery.

"You require assistance?" he asked, straight to the point as always.

"I need you to take Mothma aboard the Executor. The Fury failed to secure its second goal, and I'm hoping to correct that now."

"That is?"

Luke paused, fighting the urge to tell Vader, his enemy for so long, that his intentions were none of Vader's business. Instead he took a short breath- and told Vader everything. "I want Madine as well - this may be the only chance I get, since he's not about to come into the Core Systems any time soon and Palpatine has made it clear that this is a one-off permission for me to go beyond them. The Fury was charged with picking his ship up at Bothawuii when I had already left with Mothma, but it failed to do so which means I'm going to have to try to reel him in now."

"Using Mothma as bait." Vader finished; he too had picked up the transmission sent to Coruscant by the Fury, and wondered what games his son was playing.

"Yes. Only I'm not willing to risk her to gain a lesser prize and I have no intention of being accused of such by the Emperor- so I need her safely removed."

Vader considered; "To hand her to me is contentious; she should be transferred to the Peerless."

Luke shook his head, "I need the Peerless as back-up. I have no idea what the Rebels will do to try to regain Mothma; Intel says they don't have the firepower close enough to this region to threaten a Star Destroyer, which is why I've chosen this location and given them a small window of opportunity timewise, to limit their responses. But they're used to uneven firepower, so they'll try something unexpected- they always do, which is why I need the Peerless to hand. Admiral Joss and Captain Kavanagh have three years experience working together in the field; if it comes to a fight, I want them both here."

Vader looked away, tone dismissive, "The Rebels are undermanned and under-equipped - they are hardly a threat to a Star Destroyer."

"And yet we lost eight to them already this year in the Rim Systems." Luke said without looking up, tone neutral. Newfound amity or not, he wasn't prepared to acquiesce to his father's domineering attitude.

Vader clenched his jaw but didn't argue; what could be said? "Then you should have leaked that Mothma was aboard the Peerless not the Fury, and had a Super Star Destroyer waiting for them."

Again his son shook his head, "They wouldn't have risked the attack. It had to be the Fury; on its own it'll draw them out. Any more and they would have hesitated, waited for backup."

They stopped, having reached the far side of the bay, and Luke turned to his father, no time for extended discussions. "Will you take Mothma?"

"Yes." Vader said at last, still uneasy that this would seem too much of an accord to their Master; they couldn't be seen to be allies, even for the Empire's advantage. Even that would be too much for the paranoid Emperor.

Luke nodded and they began a slow return to the shuttle, "You need to leave as quickly as possible; the Rebels can't be that far behind us and I don't want them to pick up traces of the Executor's drive waste if they scan. The Peerless is in orbit around Nubia in case I need to summon her- if you could wait there too?"

"Very well."

"Whatever happens, don't bring Mon Mothma back into the battle."

Vader turned, the slightest shade of dry amusement in his bass voice, "I have no intention of returning to the battle. If you cannot stop the Rebels with the Fury and the Peerless combined, then you do not deserve the Executor's aid."

Luke glanced to his father, allowing no trace of a smile to show on his face, knowing that Jade would be watching them now as they neared the shuttle again. "A comforting thought." he murmured in sardonic reply, "Motivational."

Vader offered nothing more and Luke glanced away uneasily, suddenly aware with whom he was conversing so casually.

As they reached the ramp of the shuttle, Vader glanced to the stormtroopers at the far side of the bay and his son nodded, gesturing for them to come forward.

A thought occurred to Luke and he turned to his father, "I trust you'll keep her in a safe place."

Vader glanced at his son, the implication clear; 'safe room' was the code they had always used to refer to any untapped place- a room without surveillance.

He nodded once, "She will be kept safe." He stated simply, and his son nodded, knowing his father had understood.

Luke needed to talk with Mothma yet- there was nowhere in his own Destroyer's detention centre where he could reasonably deactivate surveillance all of a sudden and he didn't wish to cause suspicion by suddenly having her transferred to a standard room onboard the Peerless in which there was- 'coincidentally'- no surveillance. This would be better; harder to monitor, particularly if he could make the trip to the Executor unnoticed. Palpatine knew Vader would have nothing to do with any tryst with the Alliance, and would allow no such transgression in his son either.

But Vader _would_ allow Luke to speak with Mothma if he believed it would further his own ambitions - and to that end, he would take all precautions necessary to ensure that Palpatine did not find out, including covering up a visit to the Executor by Luke.

He turned away as Mon Mothma was escorted to his father's shuttle, not wishing to meet her eye. He would have to speak to her sooner or later of course, but that could be dealt with later; he didn't yet have the time to unravel the knot of convoluted feelings which tied tighter every time he saw her. But he would have to, sooner or later, because a lot rode on the conversation's outcome - not least of all Mon's life.

Too many games in play, he thought sourly; too many balls in the air. He briefly remembered Master Yoda teaching him to float and juggle stones in the air whilst standing upside down in a handstand. Now he was doing it with lives; with destinies.

Was he forcing his will upon the future and the Force - or simply finishing what he had begun, as he'd promised the old Jedi Master he would?

.

.

"So what was the thing in the shuttle bay all about?" Mara finally asked into the silence, deciding to try the direct approach; chances were Luke knew exactly what was on her mind anyway, and he didn't generally appreciate prevarication.

The Executor was long gone, the Peerless was already waiting at Nubia until summoned, and now they were finally alone, returning to the turbolift from the final rundown in Ops, on their way to the bridge.

"What?" Skywalker asked without looking round.

"That whole Vader thing. You've never asked him for anything in your life- now suddenly you're handing Mon Mothma over to him."

"I'm not handing anybody over, least of all Mothma. She'll be returning to the Peerless at the first opportunity, I assure you. I simply don't wish to risk her just to get Madine. Mothma is for the Emperor- Madine is just because I want him."

"I'm sure Palpatine would like to see him again too."

Madine was a traitor of the worst kind; an Imperial General-turned-Rebel, taking classified intelligence and countless codes over with him when he defected, still using his knowledge of Imperial infrastructure and methods against the Empire to this day. Their master would be more than happy to see him again.

"Unfortunately if I catch him, he won't get the opportunity; Madine orgaized andimplemented the assassination attempt; he won't make it as far as Coruscantif I get him."

From the tone in Skywalker's voice, Mara doubted the Rebel General would even make it down to the Detention cells. She risked a quick glance as they walked, but he was still looking dead ahead, expression as unreadable as ever. He'd been in a foul mood since… she wanted to say since he'd found out that Madine had escaped at Bothawuii but in truth, it had been since he'd taken Mothma captive.

"Wow," she murmured, "You really know how to hold a grudge."

He turned to her just slightly. She was stood to his right, so the long, deep scar which ran down his face from above his eye through his lips and over his chin was painfully visible, as was the twist of darkness which had colored his right eye ever since the assassination attempt.

"I'm learning." He stated, and the quiet tone of his voice did nothing to dispel its menace.

They walked on in silence, Mara having nothing to say against that, on edge in a way she associated far more with being around the Emperor than with Skywalker.

She didn't mind it particularly; in fact she rather liked it. She was used to being around men of power and Skywalker was becoming just that, slowly beginning to take his place, flexing his authoritative muscles as he worked to reinforce- to _earn_ his position as the Emperor's second-in-command. He was becoming a force to be reckoned with, both in Court and in the military arena, and she was fascinated by the gradual shift; drawn in rather than intimidated by the man he was becoming.

It occurred to her for the first time to wonder where she fit into all this- from Skywalker's perspective, rather than the Emperor's. Yes, she was here by the Emperor's command, but she'd seen many times what Skywalker did to those he didn't wish close, whether the Emperor approved or not. No; more and more lately, she realised that she was here by Skywalker's sanction as much as Palpatine's - and she wanted to know why.  
Because she was realising just how important that was to her; that she wanted to remain right where she was. In fact… she wanted to get closer.

They stepped into the turbolift and Luke keyed for the bridge, staring ahead blankly, thoughts obviously elsewhere.

"Quiet?" Mara said at last, bringing his head round to her.

"Hm?"

"You're quiet."

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then turned to look straight ahead again without reply.

"Know what your problem is… you need to get out more." Mara said casually without looking round.

"Thank-you," he replied dryly, "I'll bear that in mind."

"Maybe a little company." she elaborated, steadfastly refusing to take the hint. "Not one of those airhead little fripps who hang around in Court batting their carefully-curled eyelashes at you, you understand. They're just a waste of space."

"You're all heart." Luke said, the slightest hint of amusement coloring his voice now, knowing she was trying to draw him out, though he didn't look round.

"Please," Mara dismissed, "You wouldn't look twice at them. You don't; I've watched you."

"Really?" He turned at that, affecting a suddenly-interested air at her claim, "And that would be because…?"

Mara ignored his teasing tone, "They're decorative, I guess. But I don't think you go for that. I think you like the type that has a little something between her ears - which basically puts all of them out of the running. Too much inbreeding in the Royal Houses if you ask me. Plus they're a little too eager; kinda like shooting fish in a barrel."

Luke glared at her, eyes widening slightly in mock offense to hide his amusement, but it only egged her on. "Oh come on- half the women in Court would climb over their dead grandmother to make you notice them."

"That's not actually a selling point." Luke said, "And anyway, they'd climb over their dead grandmother to get _The Heir _to notice them. I just happen to inhabit the same space."

"What you need is a challenge." Mara continued, flashing a sideways grin without meeting his eye.

He glanced away, but she knew that he was trying hard to disguise the half-smile that was turning the edge of his scarred lips up. "I'm flattered you've put so much thought into it."

"What are friends for." Mara said with an elaborate shrug, carefully not looking round as she saw his head turn to her at the categorization.

He held silent for long seconds, then looked forward again, "I didn't know they were for this."

"Well you don't seem to be getting very far on your own." Mara countered, enjoying the banter now, very much aware of the fact that they were suddenly charting new territory.

"I didn't know I was being judged, either." Luke countered easily, eyes on the turbolift display.

Mara turned, arching her eyebrows, "I haven't seen anything to _judge_ yet."

"Maybe if you'd clarified that you were waiting…"

"Maybe if you'd…"

Without a second's warning, the lights in the turbolift all fell to darkness and it lurched to an instant stop, Luke reaching forward to steady Mara as she put her own hands out, her heart skipping a beat, her equilibrium lost at the rapid deceleration.

For a moment they remained still, eyes struggling uselessly to adjust to the absolute black of the enclosed space, Luke's hand still to Mara's arm, one of her hands against the wall, the other clutching Skywalker's outstretched arm. Luke moved slightly in the darkness, so close that Mara could feel his breath rustle her hair as he began to speak, then she felt his other hand brush lightly against her waist, touching on her hip-

"Now w…" Luke's words were lost beneath Mara's lips as she leaned in from the darkness, one hand to his cheek…

And kissed him.


	14. Chapter 14

On impulse, given a reckless daring by his sudden closeness and the anonymity of the pitch black within the stilled turbolift, Mara stood on tip-toe, reaching up to touch his face, raising her chin to his, his breath warm against her as she leaned in… and kissed him.

For a second - just a moment - he leaned in toward her and the radiant burst which coursed through her in the darkness was brighter than anything mere light could conjure…

Then he pulled away, hand still to her shoulder though he didn't step back - and his tone when he spoke seemed laced with genuine surprise. "What are you doing?!"

"Couldn't you tell?" Mara teased, still flush with courage by the cloak of absolute dark and by his apparent actions.

There were several long seconds of silence in which Mara could practically _hear_ Skywalker trying to pull words and thoughts together…

"…_Now?!..."_ was all he could finally muster.

She leaned back just slightly, a terrible thought occurring, making her stomach churn; "You didn't turn the lights off and stop the turbolift…?"

Another long silence; "….No."

Mara's lips made an '_ohhh'_ shape in the dark. In the silence that followed, she realized that they were still stood very close and she was still holding his arm… and he was still holding hers.

"Well then where was your hand?"

"On your arm… where did you think it was?"

"The other one." Mara said flatly, unamused.

There was another short silence in which Mara knew Luke was putting it all together; "I was reaching for your comlink… on your belt."

She shook her head slowly in the darkness - of course! He _never_ carried a comlink; always used someone else's… "Ah."

They remained silent for a few more seconds before something occurred to her; "Why are you still holding my arm then?"

He let go quickly and she heard a rustle of movement as he took a step back.

"Your com's not working." He said, sidestepping the question completely.

Though the very fact that he had it proved he wasn't making all this up, she knew. Small comfort. She felt- _sensed_- that distant attunement in the back of her mind which she'd come to recognize as his reaching into the Force.

"This is shipwide." There was an edge in his voice now, everything else forgotten, and Mara again glanced pointlessly around in the pitch black.

"Really?" That didn't seem very likely. Why was he so bothered by this? "Are you… claustrophobic?"

There was a long pause, then she heard his voice ask warily, "No… are you?"

Mara rolled her eyes in the darkness, "No- you just seem a little edgy…"

"Well the timing seems a little convenient…"

Mara frowned, well aware of this fact but not willing to actually panic yet, "Give it a minute - the emergency power will…"

The lights in the turbolift flickered on and they both flinched beneath the bright glare, looking down. When she looked up, he was holding out his hand; in it was her comlink. It wasn't particularly in Mara's nature to get embarrassed, but Skywalker seemed to have a special propensity to make her so- though if he knew, he had the good grace never to draw attention to the fact. Mildly discomfited, she quickly took it back and changed the subject, "Weird - why aren't we moving again?"

Luke took a half-step back to look at the panel, " '_System failure- please wait'_." He read aloud.

Mara's comlink pipped a tone and he reached out, taking it from her hand, "Yes?"

"…Commander?" The voice sounded both surprised and relieved, "Sir we had a shipwide…"

In the next instant, everything was black again, the comlink falling to instantaneous silence, not even a static hiss escaping it.

"Great." Luke said into the darkness.

"I think that was emergency power that just blew." Mara said, the first inklings of alarm casting tension into her own voice now.

She heard him move again; the slightest sound of hard metal, "My lightsaber's out."

Now that _was_ odd; she fumbled for her blaster and pulled it free, pointing it at the floor; '_click'_. "So's my blaster."

She was pulling the power pack with the blind familiarity of a professional soldier when he spoke again.

"Don't jump." He said cryptically, and she was just lifting her head to the sound of his voice when there was an almighty, rending '_WHUMP!'_ from the ceiling above her, making her crouch down with a yelp, arms above her head.

In the long, dust-choked silence that followed, Mara's pounding heart slowly leveled off.

"I _said_ don't jump." Luke's amused voice came from the darkness.

"Very funny." Mara growled, standing, "You're supposed to also say why. You're supposed to say, 'Don't jump; I'm about to make a lot of noise.'"

"I did, but the noise drowned it out." he deadpanned, still amused. If she'd known exactly where he was in the darkness, Mara would have taken a swing for him, Heir or not. "Don't jump… but I'm leaving."

Mara's hair rustled in a flurry of displaced air, a sound from above indicating that he'd jumped and landed. He must have used the Force to peel part of the turbolift roof back to get a clear jump out, she realized.

"Give me your hand." His voice came from above, echoing slightly in the turbolift shaft, and Mara glanced blindly up, flailing in the darkness, "Where are you?"

"Not even close. Stay still."

His hand locked around her wrist and she'd barely gotten a grip and braced herself before he hauled her up, her feet scrabbling at the edge of the remains of the turbolift roof as she leaned forward blindly and grabbed for him in the darkness. He held onto her for a few seconds as she steadied herself.

"_Don't_ step back." He said calmly, arm still about her.

"If this is all some elaborate hoax to get me to cling on to you…" she grinned, unable to resist.

"Yes:" he said, dryly amused, attention clearly elsewhere, "I really do have so few lines that I need to resort to this."

"Just checking." She said with mock-seriousness.

He turned slightly and reached out his arm over her shoulder and she heard him lightly touch the wall behind her, then the reluctant grating of plassteel against plassteel.

"You can back out now. Take a big step back over the shaft and a half-step up."

"You're sure there's a floor there?"

"As tempting as it is to lie, yes, I'm sure there's a floor there."

Mara stepped gingerly back; for a short distance, her foot hung over nothing, presumably the void at the edge of the lift shaft, then her heel hit a hard ledge and she lifted her foot up to feel the non-slip floor beneath her feet, just slightly up from where she'd expected; they must have been very close to a set of doors when power failed. She released him to turn around and take the long step… into absolute darkness.

"Well this is _so_ much better." She stated sardonically, reaching her hands out before her. "I'm assuming this isn't the bridge."

"That's a good few levels up." He announced from close beside her, making her jump. His voice trailed away as he spoke though, and she turned slightly to keep it centered, her only indication of where he was.

The dry, grating, metallic rasp sounded again and a sliver of dusky light cast a hazy glow through the opening doors, outlining Skywalker where he stood, one hand held before them.

Mara had never been so happy to see starlight.

She walked quickly into the room; it was empty, a 'tech station set up for human interface, but all the screens were blank. She pushed a few buttons and toggled some switches pointlessly. "Dead."

Skywalker turned to the wall beside him as he entered and banged his fist into the fire alarm, breaking the transparent cover and hitting the alarm at the same time. Nothing happened.

"Everything's out." He repeated calmly, then paused as a thought occurred, "Wonder if life support's working."

Mara frowned, "Why do we have gravity?"

"Good question." He walked towards the viewport and looked out. They were at the very base of the Command Tower, the turbolift having just left the main body of the Destroyer, the 'tech room affording an impressive view of its massive bulk - or it would have been, had anything been working. There wasn't a single light or visibly active system to be seen across the long, streamlined hull.

Luke was pressing the side of his face to the viewport now, and Mara frowned as she walked towards him, "Are you… listening?"

"Yes." he said dryly, "I'm _listening_ to the viewport."

"Hey, you have set something of a past precedent for wierdness." Mara retorted, belatedly realizing that he was trying to see to the very edges of the viewscreen's field of vision, "What are you looking for?"

She glanced out, eyes drawn to the dead-in-space bulk of the freighters Luke had used in the attack at Bothawuii, drifting dangerously close.

"Well this didn't happen on its own." Luke said distantly, eyes further afield.

"EMP?" Mara said, having come to the same conclusion herself, though she hadn't said it out loud for the simple fact that all Star Destroyers were of course hardened against the overload effects of an electromagnetic pulse. She gazed out over the dead ship, trying to work this through in her mind, then spotted the slightest flicker of starlight on metal near the heat exhaust ports which vented to either side of the Destroyer's apex gunnery platforms. "The fans are still working."

Luke glanced down, following her line of sight and squinting. "They're mechanical - no link to the automated systems."

So it _had_ to be an EMP; "But we're combat-hardened. Nothing can…"

She stopped as it occurred to her in exactly the same moment as Luke-

"The Invincible." she said, as if it were a kick to the gut. The as yet unlaunched Invincible sported the latest advance in dynamic flux compression EMP technology. Supposedly the only system in existence - obviously not.

Luke didn't reply, a more immediately relevant thought occurring, "Shields…"

"They must be down- they're linked into the mainframe." Mara cursed, joining him in leaning her head against the cool transparisteel to widen their field of view.

The Fury's engines must have powered down within a split second of each-other but not quite simultaneously, since as well as gliding slowly forward, she was gradually tilting on her axis - and it was this which brought the small freighter slowly into view.

"There!" Luke was the first to see it, pressing a finger against the viewport, but then he was looking expectantly at exactly that spot. Mara scowled into the darkness, struggling to make out a shadowy shape against the void about it.

"It's dead too."

"They didn't have shielding either. Where the hell did they get that DEMP from?"

"Two." Mara said; "They must have fired one to take out the Fury's systems, then waited for the emergency back-ups to come online and fired a second to be sure they'd overloaded everything."

"Well it worked." Luke said flatly. He took a half-step away from the viewscreen and rested both palms against it, eyes on the distant ship. "What are you doing, Madine?"

This wasn't like him; it wasn't his style to come in with guns blazing. He was confident yes - he was after all an ex-Imperial officer - but he tended towards small gestures which generated large effects, which was why he was so useful to the Rebellion…

"He's not doing anything anymore." Mara said dryly, eyes still on the dead freighter, "He's just as stuck as we are."

"No, he's doing something; this is _for_ something…" Luke stared at the shadowy ship, dead in space, "He wants Mon… and he thinks we have her…"

"Maybe he's slowing us down - maybe he's called for backup?"

"No…" Luke's fingers tapped lightly against the viewport as he considered, "He doesn't have time. When we scanned a few hours ago there were no Rebel ships within three hours of here- that's why we chose these co-ordinates. They know the Fury would be reported as having failed to check in within an hour of missing a broadcast and that the fleet would start the search from our last known location, which gives him two hours at the most…"

Mara glanced out at the ship again, "Well he's too far away to do any damage from…"

"Chell!" Luke whirled away from the viewscreen striding quickly back into the inky shadows of the corridor, Mara rushing behind him as he explained, "Another ship! He has another ship coming in from hyperspace right now!"

Mara shook her head pointlessly in the darkness, "You just said Intel confirmed there were no other ships in the area-"

"The second freighter." Luke reminded, of the unexpected Rebel freighter that had come in from Col Din during Mon's capture. "Remember Madine was on a second Rebel freighter at Bothawuii?! They must have met up just outside the system then jumped to our location a few minutes apart. That freighter out there's dead in space from the DEMP pulse it released, but the second freighter would only need to be a minute or two behind at lightspeed and…"

"It'll be undamaged." Mara finished, realization hitting her. "At lightspeed they'd be outside the pulse range coming in to Madine's co-ordinates!"

They passed into the darkness, Luke pausing at the first intersection to get his bearings, Mara barreling into him from behind with enough force send him staggering forward a few steps.

"Hey!"

"Sorry." She sounded suitably sheepish and just a little too amused." Can you see anything?"

"The Force can enhance sight enough t…. what the hell are you doing now!?"

Mara was fumbling in the darkness for his waistband as he half-turned towards her, "Oops! Sorry. I was… just…" she finally found his belt and wrapped her hand about it, "Tell me if we hit steps."

He made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh and set off again, jerking Mara's arm as she set forward, one hand holding his belt, one hand out before her in the pitch black.

.

.

"Three steps down." came Luke's voice from the darkness.

Mara slowed slightly and waited until Skywalker stepped down the first, his downward pull where she held onto his belt giving her the location of the stair's edge as she gingerly stepped down. When he leveled out she knew she should too and they both set off again at a slow jog.

They were getting a good routine now. Luke had headed back to the midship turbolift shafts which were wrapped about with the emergency stairwells, Mara assuming he'd head up to the bridge from there, so that there'd been a brief spat when he'd headed down, Mara hauling him to a halt by his belt, Luke telling her in no uncertain terms exactly why she shouldn't do that.

They'd crossed the paths of various officers, troopers and non-comm's, most of whom had been calmly making their way towards the emergency assembly sites. Luke had sent four separate officers to the bridge now, using them to relay orders. Priority was to get long-distance communications working to call in help from the waiting Peerless, then check life-support and carbon monoxide levels.

He'd not taken any troopers with him; he and Mara were moving too quickly and troopers would slow them down, the night-vision capability of their helmets now rendered useless. Most had taken them off, their unfiltered voices sounding uncharacteristically human to Mara's ears.

They'd also come across numerous droids in their travels, collapsed in a heap wherever they happened to be when the DEMP had gone off, Luke using the Force to push their heavy bulk to the sides of corridors so that no-one would stumble over them in the absolute darkness of enclosed internal corridors.

Mara was getting strangely used to the impenetrable pitch now. She'd found it easier for some reason to actually close her eyes, learning to feel for the slightest change in Luke's stance, the break in his even stride, the way his torso moved against her fingers where they touched his back, to listen to the rhythm of his breathing in the complete silence… to just… let him take charge and be led, relying on him not to let her get hurt. It was a strange thing to be suddenly so completely dependent on another person - yet to have absolute faith that they wouldn't fail you; like the longest 'trust exercise' in history.

He slowed to a halt and Mara stopped close behind him, panting from having run so far, her free hand against his back, feeling it rise and fall as he too breathed heavily.

"What?"

"They're here." He stated simply, "Another ship- a hundred or so crew… We need a…" He walked to the side, Mara yanked with him as she held onto his belt, feeling the changing tension in his body and the pull of his shirt as he lifted his arm.

Another door grated reluctantly open, the pale wash of starlight incredibly reassuring to Mara, like being able to take a breath after swimming under water. They walked forward to the small viewport there; they'd been among Petty-Officers' living quarters for the last few floors, the corridors here narrow and twisting, hallways that were so familar in normal light suddenly seeming a near-indecipherable maze. Luke had tried to stay close to outside walls to maintain some sense of bearing, always keeping the dead Rebel freighter to his left, so Mara wasn't surprised that the first outside room they entered afforded a view of it - and its new companion.

"There!" she announced pointlessly; it was the only thing with running lights in the vicinity, a flare of light to Mara's dark-adjusted eyes.

They waited, watching the ship for a while, but it seemed to come no nearer nor make any offensive move, despite the Star Destroyer's obviously crippled state.

"What are they waiting for?" Luke murmured, frowning, reaching out with the Force into the ether, training all his perceptions on the brightly-lit freighter…

And there she was, like a distant figure in a sandstorm, scattered and diffuse but bristling with outrage and brimming with determination.

"Leia." He whispered beneath his breath.

"What?" Mara's asked, aware that some change had come over him.

He turned to her, his pale eyes almost black so wide were the pupils, and he smiled that feral smile... and in that moment, looking up into his face in the dim light of the starry night, Mara knew absolutely why Palpatine called Skywalker his Wolf.

"An old acquaintance." He said at last, an edge to his voice now though he spoke deceptively quietly, turning back to the Rebel ship, "I wonder if she'll come and visit?"


	15. Chapter 15

Leia frowned onboard the Arcturus' bridge, her heart suddenly skipping a beat, fluttering in her chest. The Sol lay dead in space before her, the Imperial Star Destroyer _Fury_ nearby, both still floating slowly forward under their own inertia, the Fury making a ponderous corkscrew turn on its own axis as it did so.

Close to the Fury was the were the two battered freighters that had been so innocuouslyunder cover amongst the bona-fide shipping at Bothawuii, both dead, affecting a slow-motion tumble dangerously close to the front edge of the massive Destroyer. The true potential of the DEMP suddenly came home to Leia; the realisation of what it could do in a pitch battle if one side had shields and the other did not - if _they_ did not. She took a slow breath to calm her sudden attack of nerves as they nestled close to the Sol, helm struggling to match its slow drift for tractor beams to engage, the vessels too close in mass for one to anchor the other securely without using its engines. She pulled her eyes from the scene of silent devastation, turning to Wyatt, "Are we in position, Captain?"

"Yes, Ma'am- we have a lock on the Sol. We'll begin evacuating immediately."

"Do so. Estimated time?"

"Around fifty minutes Ma'am- the best we can do with one shuttle."

Leia turned back; if only they'd had the room to take the Sol's shuttles onboard the Arcturus before it went to hyperspace, they could have halved the evacuation time. But with the Arcturus' other two shuttles already committed to ferrying boarding parties and its third lost along with Mon, she was painfully aware that every minute spent so close to the damaged Star Destroyer increased the risk of a second Destroyer turning up to check on its last location.

Theoretically they had up to an hour before the Fury would be considered to have missed a routine communication; longer if it was supposed to be in hyperspace, plus another hour response time, but they had no guarantee of either of these facts; it could have been just minutes away from its hourly check-in and another Destroyer could be trying to raise it now- there could already be a Destroyer on its way here. And if it was, anybody who wasn't onboard the Arcturus when it arrived would have to be left behind; there was no way this poky little freighter was about to outrun or outgun even a Frigate or Corvette, let alone a Destroyer. They'd been lucky once today in escaping the Fury only because of the Sol's intervention; she didn't want to have to try that luck again without it.  
Which made her next command all that much harder;

"Contact Commander Solo and Commander Luss- tell them to launch their teams." Something buzzed at the back of her mind which she couldn't quite place, making her heart race and setting her nerves on edge all over again. "And start the calculations for a lightspeed jump in case we need to get out of here in a hurry."

.

In the bowels of the petty-officer's quarters, Luke stared out of the small viewscreen from a cramped, empty room, watching the lights of the distant freighter and feeling... _something_ trickle up his spine.

"Why aren't they coming in any closer?" Mara asked uneasily, wondering what they were doing.

She turned back to Skywalker who remained silent, eyes locked on the ship… and again, Mara felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as he summoned the Force; intense contact, accurate control, channelled like a laser specifically at the Rebel ship.

Was he everything that the Emperor was now, she wondered? Just as powerful, just as precise… but a completely unknown entity. She knew that he was Sith… she _thought_ she knew; Palpatine was so sure now, so convinced… but he used his abilities so rarely that unlike Vader, she really had no concept of how extensive they were.

One thing she did know; he wasn't the man who had come to the Palace four years ago. Palpatine had invested a great deal of time and effort in creating his new Sith, some of it glaringly obvious and some of it so subtle that she was sure even Skywalker didn't know- and certainly there would be manipulations; hidden compulsions and coercions in place that she wasn't aware of.

But Palpatine had achieved what he wanted; because whatever else she saw when she looked into his eyes right now, she also saw her master's precious Wolf. She didn't doubt that Palpatine saw the same thing, but when he looked, he saw the opportunity to tame that will; bring it to heel, hold that source of power and potential. When Mara looked, she just saw the wolf - and the thought rolling round her head was; what did this wolf want?

At best, he was simply biding his time until leadership of the pack became available, and the more she knew him, the less likely she thought that to be. At worst…

His chin tilted up and his eyes widened as he took in a short, quick breath- "Well, well, well…"

.

Luke had shut out Mara's close presence, her dormant connection always making her glow within the Force, and reached out to the distant ship, narrowing his focus to try to track down just exactly what was happening. He was a long way away from the ship and the minds aboard were a diffuse mix of humans and aliens, all tense and wired. But leaders was seldom that difficult to find; they tended to have a singularity of purpose, a clarity of intent which made them stand out from the crowd. This time was no different.

Except that, whilst searching again for Madine, he had turned that intense Force-scrutiny on Leia…

She was as sharp and as focused and as doggedly determined as every memory he still held of her… but he sensed something else as well - it was only now, when he was acutely aware of Leia but looking for Madine that he sensed it; like trying to see a star in the night sky by not looking directly at it.

An unmistakable aura. Pale and faint, as insubstantial as a whisper… for a moment he dismissed it as some echo of Mara's presence, but this was different…

The corners of his scarred lips lifted just slightly in surprised amusement and he let out a short, disbelieving laugh, only too willing to consider that the galaxy could throw him this curve-ball so completely without warning.

She was Force-sensitive -­ how had he never noticed?

He could sense it quite clearly now, muted though it was, untapped and untamed. A resonance in the Force, compelling despite its indistinct diffusion. He held still for long seconds, mes­­­­merised…

Palpatine must know - his Master had made several veiled attempts in the last few years to get hold of Leia Organa, always careful to try to keep them hidden from his fallen Jedi. Luke had always assumed that this wa­s simply because of his past friendship with Leia - now he wondered…

"Well, well, well…"

.

"What?" Mara whispered, confused at his obvious revelation. For long seconds he remained silent, his features just visible in the cold starlight, attention rapt, focused entirely on the distant ship.

"There." He pointed to the vague shapes which slipped through the blackness, relieved to have something to turn Mara's attention away. Visible only by their edges, defined by the merest trail of diffuse starlight, their presence was detectable only when their shadowed bulk momentarily obscured the stars behind them - and in the Force of course; "Two shuttles - I think around twenty in each one."

Mara squinted into the endless pitch... for a second she saw the bright burst of a manoeuvring thruster flare in the darkness, "I see them… no running lights."

"Wouldn't want to draw attention to themselves."

Mara frowned, eyes locked on the moving shadows, black against black, "A boarding party?"

"They'll likely go for the aft bays; they're closest to the Detention Centre." He turned and set off into the darkness of the enclosed corridor, Mara's hand brushing against his hip and slipping over his belt.

They were another three levels down, moving quickly now, accustomed to their system, when Luke slowed.

"What?" Mara asked

"They've docked. Both ships in the same bay. I don't think they've encountered anyone yet."

"Probably because the bay atmospherics would have failed - they'll be in vacuum until they can get out of the bay and they'll have to crank the doors and risk some loss of atmosphere - they can't cut their way in or they'll just remain in vacuum."

Luke paused; he hadn't considered that. "Which could be exactly what they intend- just open up a corridor to vacuum between here and the Detention Centre, one set of doors at a time. It's a quick way to get rid of any opposition."

Mara tilted her head in acknowledgement; it was, she had to admit, a very efficient plan of action. "Would it be worth their while to cut their way through? Doors can be closed again if someone onboard finds a working pressure suit."

"Plus their line of withdrawal would be very obvious. We could set up an ambush at any point along the way and just wait."

"Too much of a gamble for them?"

She felt him shrug, "I guess it would depend on how many stormtroopers they were expecting to meet along the way. I think they'd try to go for the quieter, less obvious option, considering how many stormtroopers are onboard the Fury. As far as they know, no-one's even seen them yet. .. though I'd still consider venting corridors in their position."

"Well let's hope they haven't."

"I don't think that hiding our heads in the…" He paused again, and Mara realised that he'd been tracking the group's location using the Force whilst they'd been speaking, "No- they're in the same corridors as troopers. They're moving too slow and the troopers are still in the corridor- if it was vacuum, they'd have been dragged out by now."

"Maybe it didn't occur to them."

"It should've- if…" Luke paused again, and again Mara felt that brush against her senses; that Skywalker had realised something significant. She felt acutely attuned to his thoughts, more so than ever before. Maybe it was their close proximity…

He spoke again, cutting through her thoughts, "They're splitting up- some are staying back."

"Presumably to guard the shuttles. If we…"

Luke turned to Mara in the darkness, her hand slipping from his belt to slide over his hips as he did so, "Go back up to the aft landing bay. Stop off at the munitions store two levels up from there - there'll be slug-shooters in storage. Make sure you don't get the ones with smart grips."

"Thanks- I'd pretty much figured that out." Mara said dryly; smart grips recognised the palm-print of the holder and only fired for that individual, but they used a recognition chip to do that, which left them as dead as all standard-issue blasters. Old-fashioned explosive-based slug-firers would be as dangerous as ever though.

"Why are we going down to the hold? The infiltration unit will be heading down to the Detention Centre for Mothma."

"Because the ships they flew in have power- and if they have power then they have comms."

Mara could have slapped herself on the forehead- _Everything_ that came off the second Rebel ship was still fully-functional. They had shuttles, they had blasters, they had pressure suits... and they had comms. She could contact the Peerless! It was minutes away by lightspeed, waiting for their signal. All she had to do was get on board the…

"Wait a minute- where are you going?" she asked warily, suddenly realising he didn't intend to come.

"I'm going to the Detention Centre." He said grimly.

"Well then I'm…" she didn't get a chance to finish.

"I need you to get that comm through _now_." Luke reiterated, hoping she'd see the logic in this. "I need the Peerless back here. You want to help me? Then the best thing you can do is get to the landing bay."

He needed Mara gone- he _knew_ who was heading to the Detention Centre and he didn't want his Imperial 'watcher' reporting back to Palpatine, because he had no idea, none whatsoever, of what would happen when they met.

Mara still hesitated, but Luke surprised her by reaching down to take her hand, still resting against his hip. "Mara- I _need_ you to do this." He squeezed her hand reassuringly, his voice tinged with humour now, "I promise you I won't get shot."

Mara hesitated, suddenly uncertain, moved by the unanticipated act of intimacy- but she couldn't drop it that easily, "Is this like when you promised me you wouldn't get blown up?"

"I never said I wouldn't get blown up." came his voice from the darkness, gently amused, "In fact I think I said my bomb would go off first."

"Yeah, but you failed to mention that you'd be stood in front of it when it did. On purpose." She charged in reply.

"I had... other things on my mind." It was a huge admission and she knew he'd given it in the hope of reassuring her, "I don't anymore. They're not gonna take Mothma and they're not gonna come close to stopping me. _If_ you get word to the Peerless."

"Anyone can get word to the Peerless." She didn't want to leave him, more protective than ever.

"I can't rely on anyone but you, Mara. You'll get the job done, I know that. I _trust_ you."

She hesitated, still torn…

He could have just ordered her; could have made it a command and just walked away, Mara knew. But he didn't; he was trying to show consideration- to recognize her as something other than another subordinate, just as she'd seen him do with others in his close entourage such as Joss and Hallin. It was realisation of this, of the fact that for the first time she was being included rather than politely, pointedly excluded, which finally made her concede defeat.

"Fine." she allowed, stepping away, "Just don't get shot, or Palpatine will have my hide."

"And here's me thinking you cared." He said easily, and for once Mara had no rejoinder, feeling her cheeks flush in the darkness as she backed away.

"Mara-" he added as an afterthought, hearing her turn back to him, "Tell the Peerless to fire across the bow of the second Rebel Freighter, but let it leave. They're not to take it into custody."

He could sense her confusion; hear the uncertainty in her voice, "I thought you'd want it captured?"

"No- it's not Madine. He isn't onboard." he lied easily, no guilt in the action, even now. It had become as natural to him as a bluff on the sabacc table, a legitimate tactical practice in the circles he moved; the only way to maintain any autonomy, particularly with the Emperor who always played his games, wheels within wheels.

Before someone with such far-reaching power, the only way to beat the system was to play it. Despite his father's warnings, Luke had quickly learned that the sole way to manipulate the Emperor was to manipulate or withhold the facts he acted upon, just as Palpatine did with others. His Master's weakness lay in his insular existence; he seldom left the Palace and so relied on information being brought to him rather than seeking it out- that was why he had so many spies and watchers.

And that was where he was vulnerable; getting a lie past Palpatine was incredibly hard; getting it past Mara and having her deliver it _believing it was the truth_ was so much easier- if he dressed it right.

Whatever Palpatine wanted Leia Organa for, Luke could pretty much guarantee that it wasn't the same as he; in fact, his own plans depended greatly on Leia remaining right where she was. This whole operation - coming after Mon; shaking up the Rebellion's leadership - was _specifically_ to place Leia exactly where he wanted her. Yes, he wanted to remove Mon from power before she did the same to him, but he wouldn't have done so with such single-minded zeal had he not held ulterior motives- motives which were kept very carefully hidden from his Master. And to do that, Luke needed to lie not just to Palpatine but to the eyes and ears his Master had placed so carefully about his fallen Jedi... and he did so now without compunction.

"I want them to go back without Mon and without the stolen DEMP generators. I want them to have to admit to all that - losing Mon; _giving_ her away - then wasting the generators trying to get her back. I want the people who were here to try to work out what happened because the reasonable conclusion is to think they had at least one informer onboard who gave away their identity and location on Bothawuii- and if they do, they'll believe them to be highly-placed. I want to make them look to each-other and wonder."

Mara grinned in the darkness; he was always setting fireworks beneath the Rebels and standing back to watch the show. "Lighting the blue touch-paper again?"

She could hear his smile in his words, "It's my only entertainment Mara- give me that one."

"What about sabacc?"

She heard his mock indignation, "Sabacc's not an entertainment; it's a life-lesson."

"I'll remember that the next time you want your winnings."

"I didn't say it was free." he countered, humour in his voice, which was growing ever more distant as he backed away, and she snorted as she turned again, heading down to the aft docking bay.

.

.

"How close are we to completing the evacuation of the Sol?" Madine asked of Leia Organa, having just entered the bridge of the Arcturus.

"Maybe fifteen minutes." Leia assured. Madine had been uncomfortable with Han's insistence on using the DEMP generators but this far, it seemed to be going to plan. The only problem they'd encountered was that residual currents from the surge were causing patchy communications from the assault team onboard the crippled Star Destroyer.

It had been a bold move and Leia's backing of it had no doubt upset the General; were Mon in charge, under similar circumstances she would have taken Madine's advice and surely gone for a more conservative response. Leia could only hope she'd made the right decision; in truth there was no right or wrong here given the circumstances, but she knew that the Captain of the Fury would no doubt have come up against the combination of Mothma and Madine before, so hoped that her distinctive response would at least have the edge of surprise.

"How long since we fired the generator?" she asked of her Ops officer.

"Twenty-seven minutes." The pike-thin Utapan replied, a lisp in her voice.

The DEMPs - the precious DEMP generators which had bought them this opportunity - the first was blown beyond repair, unprotected from the second discharge, and the second was in bad shape. The 'tech who had run all the way to the bridge after he and his companions had finally risked returning to the hold, had chased Madine down as he prepared to board the shuttle to the Arcturus, quoting between gasps that the URG superconductors, which they'd had neither the time nor the technology to calibrate before its discharge, had suffered a 'catastrophic failure ' of their own.

Getting any more information at this point was useless; it tied personnel up running between the hold and the bridge and any description containing the words 'catastrophic' probably meant they weren't getting it back on line any time soon - certainly not in time to turn on another Star Destroyer if it appeared - which also assumed that the Arcturus would somehow be able to escape the discharge itself.

A team were now in the Sol's hold, hoping to secure the badly-damaged DEMP and get it onboard a shuttle to the Arcturus, but if it came to the crunch, Leia wouldn't exchange lives for hardware. The Sol was already being set with charges to cover the origins of the two DEMPs and if she had to, if another Destroyer came in… another Destroyer….

Something was scratching at Leia's thoughts, like a distant whisper that she couldn't quite make out, like a shadow at her shoulder… she half-closed her eyes in concentration, trying to track down the hunch, to see into that indistinct shadow…

The though t- the realisation when it finally coalesced and hit her - took her breath away, spinning her about, "Where's the Peerless!?"

"The last known location was close to Nubia Ma'am, with the Dauntless."

"Do we have a contact on-board?" Leia turned to the Intel officer, regretting not having Tag Massa in attendance; the razor-sharp Intel Chief would have known immediately. As it was, there was a pause before the Intel Officer stated, "I believe so. We can check?"

"Do so. Ask Home-one to send out a constant message; we urgently need contact. We need to know where Skyw…" she paused, correcting herself; it was a long time since she'd made that slip out loud. "Whether The Heir is still onboard the Peerless."

She turned back to Madine, hazel eyes wide, voice low so as not to be overheard, "What if he's aboard the Fury?"

Madine frowned, alarmed, "No. he never leaves the Core Systems- you know that."

"What if he did."

Madine was still shaking his head, very sure. "That's impossible. He _never_ leaves the Core Systems."

He said it like a mantra, Leia knew. For all his strengths, Madine always worked on the evidence at hand, and all previous intelligence stated that The Heir wouldn't leave the Core or the old Colony Systems, the latter now officially swallowed up by the former. It gave Palpatine's Wolf a big arena to play in and the Alliance a well-defined 'danger zone'… but what if the parameters of the hunt had changed? What if he'd finally been given permission to range further afield?

"The operation to catch Mon wasn't headed up by Vader." Leia said, very sure. It had none of his trademark behaviour; he was accustomed to having the massed power of the Imperial fleet to back him up and tended to use it in force. This had been too subtle; disguised freighters and small units, relying on subterfuge and surprise rather than brute force. That was why it had worked; they were doing as they always did; watching for Destroyers, watching for a fleet. No-one had thought to look for anything less - why should they?

They'd all been watching the sky for dragons and a snake had slithered up and bit them on the foot. This was creative and Vader didn't do creative; he went for the jugular, he took the shortest route between two points. He had superior firepower and he had superior numbers and he threw them against the Alliance without hesitation. This- _this _had been…

"Think about it-" Leia said urgently to Madine, "That was a hit-and-fade attack against us at Bothawuii- minimal troops, civilian starships; make your move then get clear of the field of battle. It was an action planned by someone who was used to having few resources, someone used to using any method to gain the advantage. Someone who learned to lay low, make the sting then get out... someone who was a Commander in the Alliance…"

Madine considered the alarming consequences, eyes skipping about the deck before him as she spoke, "Even if that's true, if we accept the possibility that it was The Heir who _planned_ this, there's still no reason to assume that he would be onboard the Fury."

_He's on that ship!_ Leia knew it as certainly as she knew that Madine was stood in front of her right now- she didn't know how or why she knew and she certainly couldn't explain it in rational terms but… he _was_ on the Fury.

And she knew something else as well; he _knew_ they were coming… and he wasn't concerned. In fact - he was looking forward to it.

Leia turned back to viewscreen, attention held completely by the hulking, silent shadow of the supposedly defenceless Fury. Suddenly it didn't seem nearly so vulnerable.

She had to go with her gut on this- she _had_ to. She walked quickly over to the comm station, leaning in to murmur, "Contact Commander Solo- tell him The Heir's on board the Fury."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am; communications are down again." The comm officer replied; "Last we heard, our units were on the Fury and close to the Detention Bay. I'll keep trying."

.

.

For an instant, Han thought the soldier beside him had simply tripped in the poor light and fallen heavily headfirst toward the wall, making an incredible amount of noise as he did so- but as he spun about to try to catch him, Han realised that the ten other commando's who had been close on his heels were also down, collapsing into still, crumpled little heaps in the near-darkness, illuminated by the limited glow of the pinlight set into his earpiece which flitted around as his head moved, their own headlights pointing randomly this way and that as they fell.

They'd made it to the Detention Center without incident, leaving commandos behind to keep key exit lines clear. Moving quietly and keeping out of trouble, they'd taken out the guards on duty there using silenced blasters with low-visiblility tracer-burst and night-vision lenses. When they were sure they'd cleared the area, they went onto side-lights, small pinlights set into their earpieces. But only when they were sure- so why the hell were all of his unit now laid out? If it was gas, why wasn't he down?

Finally Han's thoughts caught up with him and he spun around in the dark, narrow corridor, hoisting his gun, realising who would be there-

Head tilted, long, dark hair falling over pale eyes, Luke Skywalker stood like a sentinel in the corridor, barring any further advance.

Even in the wan beam of the pinlight, Han couldn't fail to miss the deep scar slicing from his right eye down his cheek and through his lips, cast into sharp shadow by the uneven light. He seemed… bigger. Seemed to fill the corridor from side to side, immovable, blocking any chance of access, every muscle taught. He didn't have a weapon that Han could see, but for some reason he didn't feel inclined to lower his own blaster.

"Why did you come, Han?"

When he spoke, despite his cold, steely tone, it was like the years just melted away for Han.  
Somehow he couldn't reconcile the voice of the man he'd known so well - had fought beside and laughed with and gotten fall-down drunk with - with the man who stood before him now, eyes ablaze with contained fury, absolutely confident despite Han's blaster, making every danger sense the smuggler ever had blare out so that it was a struggle just to hold his ground, to _make_ himself hold onto his goal.

"You know why- I came for Mon."

Luke only shook his head slowly, "Not gonna happen, you know that."

"Look, I got no fight with you Luke - let's both just calm down, okay?" Despite his words, Han was aware that his hand was tightening about the butt of his blaster, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

"You gonna shoot me, Han?" It was a raw challenge rather than the uneasy request it should have been given the circumstances.

"No I'm not gonna shoot you." Han denied, deeply uncomfortable, "I just want what I came here for."

"I told you; no. Turn around- let someone else try, Han. Not you. Don't make this a fight."

Han hesitated, wishing to avoid just that… "I can't just walk away, you know that. I know Mon too well."

Luke paused, seeming to weigh the situation, and his voice when he spoke had lost some of its edge. "She's not here."

"Well then you won't mind if I pass." Han maintained, squaring off though he didn't move forward.

"You too, Han?" Luke said, voice now disturbingly calm and neutral, "Do you think I'm lying too?"

Han almost, _almost_ said it- _Are you?  
_But in that last moment his own conscience held him to silence. He'd never once faced the same question from Luke, despite all appearances to the contrary. When everyone else - Han included - had tried to convince the kid that Han Solo was just another untrustworthy smuggler, Luke had stubbornly stuck with his own gut feeling, had held faith when everyone else had judged Han on sight- on principle even. The kid deserved no less from Han; he didn't give a damn what anyone else said.

"No I don't think that. I don't think Luke Skywalker lies." Han purposely used his old friends' name- his _real_ name.

Luke smiled tightly, amused at Solo's brashness - but then he'd never lacked nerve. "Actually he does." he countered easily, "But not to you- not about this. She's not here, Han. She's not even onboard."

Han's heart skipped a beat at that, "What?"

"She's not aboard. I wanted Madine."

Han blinked, mind racing. "So you came out of hyperspace and sent that handy little acknowledgement to Coruscant saying you had Mon onboard and helpfully added your stopoff point."

"He should have led the assault. Not Leia."

In that moment, it didn't even occur to Han to question how Luke would know that. Instead he simply answered, uncertain why he did, distracted by the buzzing in the back of his mind. "Madine was onboard the Sol- he keyed the generators so his ship was caught in their influence-" Han faltered, suddenly aware of what he was saying, seeing the realisation on Luke's face as he pieced it all together.

Han glowered at the kid, "Did you just do that Force-thing on me?!"

Luke brought his eyes back to Solo, unrepentant, "Are you pointing a gun at me?" he reminded easily, no real animosity in his voice.

"No- I am pointing a gun _near_ you," Han corrected, "There's a big difference."

"Not from where I'm standing."

"Well you don't seem particularly put out." Han said laconically.

The kid set his head to one side fractionally, little more than a shadow, dark clothes lost against the limited light. "If it were anybody else, they'd be dead already."  
A thought occurred to Luke and he spoke out again before Solo could answer. "Where are the others?"

"Around." Han evaded uneasily, immediately kicking himself for admitting that there even _were_ others.

Luke sighed, annoyed, but not really at Han, it seemed. "Keeping your exit clear?"

"Maybe." Han skirted then, at Luke's disparaging look, "Hey, I don't know how to lie to a Jedi, okay?"

Luke jolted just slightly at that, the word stopping him mid-thought; _Jedi_. His Master used the word often, but only for his own amusement… Solo- Solo had said Jedi… and meant it.  
"I'm not a Jedi Han..." Han shook his head firmly against the kid's words, but Luke spoke on regardless, "And you're right to point that gun at me, because the moment your guard's down even a fraction I'll take it from you."

"Really?" Han said, a challenge in his voice. Before Luke could reply Han spun the blaster expertly in his hand and held it out to Luke, butt first. "Take it."

Luke remained still, shaking his head slowly, genuine threat in his voice, "Don't. If I take that gun, you'll not walk out of here."

"Take it." Han repeated, holding the gun out, willing to call Luke's bluff, "I've never pointed a blaster at a friend before in my life and I'm not gonna start now."

Still the kid stood frozen, head tilted to one side, eyes flashing a final warning in the low glow of the lightbeam, making Han chillingly aware of the fact that his blaster was now muzzle-in. He still held it at body-height and kept his finger through the trigger-guard though, awaret hat he could spin it about again in an instant. Still, he set his jaw, unable to kick the tightness in his stomach when he looked into the kid's eyes.

Luke remained coiled spring-tight, unmoved at Han's actions. "I'm not a friend - don't make me prove that."

"Really? 'Cos the guy who busted me out of that Imperial prison on Coruscant sure looked a hell of a lot like you."

"He's gone."

"See that's the thing; I don't think he is. 'Cos I've met a Sith and I know how low they go… and that's not what you are."

Luke's anger flared at the inferred defamation of his father, "Don't."

There was a raw threat in the word; Han saw the kid's chin come up and his eyes narrow. The last time he had seen Vader and Luke together, they'd practically been sparking. What had changed he had no idea… but he did know one thing-  
"No- I know you," Han shook his head decisively, "And I don't believe you think they're right. You're better than that."

The kid straightened and seemed to cool a little, one side of his scarred lips turning up in dry amusement, "How very gracious of you."

"Tell me I'm wrong." Han said, letting his blaster drop to his side, "You said you wouldn't lie to me; well look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."

"I'll do better then that, Han." Luke whispered…

Something… _something_ overwhelming and nauseating reached inside Han's head and made him flinch and he looked back to the kid in slow motion, consciousness slipping away as reality dimmed to a hushed whisper, a smothering wave of devastating weakness overcoming him. And Luke was just… stood, an ominously intense look on his face in the tight beam of harsh light, no trace of emotion in his uncanny, mismatched eyes.  
The strange thing was that it didn't hurt, not really; he'd thought it would - like getting hit around the back of the head and knocked unconscious - but in the event Han just… collapsed down, a long sigh escaping him, his whole body sagging in one instant as if someone had hit the off-switch.

He crumpled, legs giving way, head going cold, eyes loosing focus, every single muscle loose as the floor seemed to rush up at him in the small pool of unsteady light-

The world sideways on, Han saw polished, black booted feet approach him, then Luke crouched down before him, his words fading into the ether…"I told you not to put the gun down…"

.

.

Mara was crouched by a side corridor which led to the aft hangar, listening intently in the darkness, when it happened-

She'd managed to gather up about three dozen stormtroopers on her way down to the hangar, leaving officers and non-com's where they were, thinking them more of a hindrance than a help in a close-quarters firefight, particularly one requiring this kind of subtlety.

A stop-off at the munitions store two levels up had turned up enough slug-firers for her impromptu unit, plus three packs of old-style explosive putty. They had no way to remote-trigger it of course; the detonators were working perfectly, but the remote activators were all blown. Still, she knew from experience that the explosive could be detonated by actually firing into it, though how she intended to do that in the pitch-black she wasn't sure.

It was in truth the least of her worries- top of her list at the moment was the lack of atmospheric shields in the bay and the fact that each of the emergency oxygen masks in the corridor outside the hangar was regulated by a small chip- which had of course blown, rendering them all useless.

She needed to get to the Rebel ships and the Rebel ships were in the now-airless docking bay and she had no air. The Rebels _guarding_ the ship had air - she could see them through the small series of viewports which ran down the corridor to one side of the hangar - but they were in the airless hangar.

Bit of a vicious circle.

So she was crouched down in the dark corridor, trying to figure out a way to get those damn masks, when it happened.

It was a shout and a whisper, sharp as a knife and soft as a breath, and it spoke directly into the centre of her mind, powerful and focused and crystal clear. Like the Emperor.

But it _wasn't_ the Emperor.

_--Mara--_

It wasn't a word; not exactly, but it was her name - hers specifically - and it commanded her attention completely, making her draw a shocked breath in, amazed and disbelieving in the same instant.

Stupidly, she glanced up the darkened corridor, expecting to see Luke there, even though the word had formed in some vague point directly between her ears.

Impressed upon her thoughts was the sudden need to be silent; that more Rebel troops were nearby; if she made a noise they would hear. An image formed in the shadows at the dges of her vision, shifting and erratic, trying to close in. It seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to close her eyes, falling back into it willingly… trusting him.

She saw the main access corridor from the hangar bay to the lower decks, the image inverse, a miasma of fine lines, in places describing intricate detail, in others the vaguest of profiles fading into nothing, but enough to tell her where it was and show her three Rebel soldiers crouched expectantly in the darkness, all looking away from her position. Occasionally different parts of the image would sharpen as he tried to pass on specific information. She saw in crystal clarity the firearms they carried; she saw that they were wearing night-vision, recognized the need to be careful.

The moment she understood, the image broke down and coalesced; another three men at an intersection five levels down, gathered on the emergency stairwell, two looking up, one looking down… Again the image broke down and reformed; three more men, close to the entrance to the Detention Levels. She had the distinct impression that she needn't worry about these- that he was already nearing their position, his intention clear.

She saw a momentary image of slumped bodies in the narrow hexagonal corridors of the Detention Centre, these ones diffuse and indistinct- unconscious.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut- she could do this; she did it all the time with the Emperor and this was already so much easier, so much more natural. She recreated in her mind her earlier frustration, frowning in concentration as she remembered exactly the moment that she had looked at the oxygen masks on the wall, cursing when she realised that they were inoperative-

Almost as the thought was forming, another force-augmented impression pushed into her mind; the three in the corridor nearest her, small rebreathers drawn in sharp focus hanging on chords about their throats… it dispersed and resolved, the night-vision in sharp focus; dangerous when they had them; useful if she could get them… then it buzzed, redrawing itself one final time; comlinks on their belts- be careful; the channel may be open to those in the hangar.

The moment she understood, the images scattered leaving behind hazy, red-green outlines as she blinked repeatedly in the darkness.

The connection lasted all of a few moments; a mass of information passed over in a burst of direct mental contact, leaving her reeling at the implications, her mission momentarily forgotten, her heartbeat loud in her ears, adrenaline pumping. She knew of course; knew that Skywalker could do this but… to other Sith, not to her. She had… _sensed_ him, had understood completely. And he had understood her, intent and communication crystal clear. Like the Emperor… but not.

Because whilst contact with her master had always been sharp and invasive, condescending and demanding, just as he always was... this had been…

What? Just as powerful and as focused and as defined but… empathic. Tempered and measured, even under stress… just as _he_ was.

Another thought occurred; how long had he known? How long had he known that he could contact her - that she would be able to understand? Her one gift, taught in meticulous detail by her master.

Had Skywalker admitted it to her now out of necessity… or as a further development of trust? Either way, the implications were significant. What would she tell the Emperor?

For the first time, a thought surfaced which made her heart pump at its audacity…

…should she tell him at all…?

.

.

.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

.

.

Luke stood in the Fury's hold, partial power routed into the Destroyer's crippled systems by front-line military mainframes shuttled over from the Peerless and patched into the Fury's remaining systems via miles of new cabling which snaked in bundled disorder through open corridors, providing basic life-support and power-hungry shields. Outside of the hangar, the massive bulk of the Peerless was just visible, casting long shadows over the Core Fleet Destroyer Dictat, which would remain as an escort to the damaged Fury until she was taken under tow.  
Repairs were estimated in months and double-figures at that. The Fury had always travelled with the Peerless as fallback support, so much so that the crew of the Peerless had nicknamed her 'Little Sister', much to the good-natured indignation of the Fury's crew.

In the low lights, the Fury's aft bay was a scene of shattered destruction, Imperial and Rebel soldiers still laid on the floor where they'd fallen, pools of blood almost black in the dim light, their slick reflections picked out by the white glow to the edge of the hold's newly-slaved atmospheric shield and the dim glimmer of the stars beyond. Slugthrowers made a hell of a mess.

Frowning, Luke crouched before the nearest corpse, setting his head on one side as he studied the glassy eyes of a Rebel in a pilot's flight-suit, staring blankly into infinity, absolutely still.

He remembered vividly when he wore a flight suit so similar to that; when he was a Commander in the Alliance… and when it was his responsibility to write that letter - the one that began, _'Dear Sir, it is with greatest regret that I must inform you…'_

He always wrote them, whether they could be sent or not. He'd written a great many of them, as he recalled.

He was still staring at the dead man when Mara walked up beside him, glancing momentarily at the downed Rebel before looking back up, eyes taking in the ruined Destroyer. "Call me a cynic, but I don't think you're going to get your deposit back on this one."

Luke didn't speak; didn't acknowledge her at all, his head still on one side, eyes on the lifeless Rebel, on the dark, glassy pool which had seeped out about him, forming perfect right-angles at its edges as it had been channelled along the indented corners of the grey deck-plates. It could so easily have been him when he'd been a Rebel pilot, Luke reflected dispassionately; a hundred times over. Why had _he_ survived but this man had died - what would have changed in the galaxy had their fates been reversed?

Mara continued, not noticing his distraction, "All the crew are aboard the Peerless and the prisoners have been transferred over."

"The Rebel task force from the Detention Level?" Luke asked distantly without standing or looking up.

"Aboard." Mara confirmed, glancing down at the inventory on the automemo she carried, mildly curious as to why he should bother to check.

"The Attin'Cho and Karrde's freighters?" Luke prompted, moving her thoughts along.

"Adrift."

"Get a 'tractor lock on the Attin'Cho; transfer her to the Peerless' hold."

Mara thought to query this, but something in Skywalker's manner held her to silence, so she merely nodded, stepping back and pulling out her new comlink to pass on the order.

She glanced out at the nearing shuttle on its final journey between the Peerless and the Fury, all other non-essential staff now evacuated. Luke had remained to oversee the securing of the Fury, strangely reluctant to leave the crippled vessel, so Mara had of course stayed with him. But now they too were leaving, and not a moment too soon; despite emergency life-support, the destroyer was already cold enough that she could see her breath misting before her, the edges of the bay nearest open space twinkling with the beginning of frost crystals forming.

"I won't be sad to leave this outsize coffin." she murmured, realising only now how silent Luke was. She looked to him, then back to the corpse on the deck, whom he was still staring at.

"Friend of yours?" she deadpanned of the lifeless Rebel, then broke off, realising what she was saying, wishing she could kick herself.

"Friends are an unaffordable luxury." He murmured impassively; no answer at all, before standing to walk silently away, an insular, isolated shadow in the gloom of the bone deep cold.

.

.

.

Han struggled to consciousness, the light bright enough to make him squint, his head pounding at the effort, a distant ringing in his ears. Slowly, memories leached through his addled mind - of the mission, of his capture… of Luke.

He rolled onto his side, groaning, aware of the cold, hard floor below him, the vibrating hum of a struggling air exchanger rattling loose deck plates. It smelled empty and fusty, as if no-one had been here for a long time… which was never true of _any_ Imperial detention cell. Realisation that the high-pitched warbling wasn't in his head finally filtered through, along with vague recognition as to what it was; comm signals weren't generally a feature of detention cells either...

He dragged his eyes open… and stared at the underside of an ageing holo-chess table, set into the corner of a battered hold, surrounded by a half-curve of dilapidated acceleration seats.

"Chell!!" he scrabbled upright, stumbling back a few paces over a huge roll of something on the floor to hit his hip against the corner of the hold ops console, his arm grabbing at the chair there.

"What the…" Was this a dream? How hard had Luke knocked him out?

He rested back against the console, his hand dragging a line through the dusty surface. Every bang and hum and patter was right- every vibration trembling through his boots and buzzing right up into his brain…

He was in the Falcon. The Millennium Falcon.

He had no idea - none whatsoever - what to do. His battered brain just couldn't come up with something equal to the moment. For a long time he just stared, waiting to wake up.

Finally he staggered forward, stepping over the mass of the huge roll on the floor without even seeing it, reaching out for the dust-encrusted holo-chess table, a gradual, unstoppable grin spreading across his face.

He could have hollered and whooped and yelled himself hoarse… but in the moment, he simply reached out to the wall and ran his fingers over her, feeling again that familiar vibration which had always made his heart beat in quicktime.

"Hey Baby- ya miss me?"

The comm still trilled for attention and Han staggered, lightheaded, back to the ops console and flicked a switch- it was a little sticky; he really needed to fix that.

"…vessel this is the Alliance Frigate Arcturus- do you read me? I say again, you are adrift at the edge of a battle-zone. Do you require…"

Han grinned, "Hey, hey, hey- look what I found!"

Leia's voice came over the comm, echoing slightly with distortion, her shock and relief audible. "Han?!"

He was grinning so wide now that his cheeks were starting to ache - his two favourite ladies, together again. "Hey doll, don't go… I mean, Highness. Don't go crossing me off the Duty List yet."

"Han, how did you… never mind. Standby, we're coming alongside. We'll tractor-beam you in."

In his excitement, Han didn't even bother to refuse. He just turned about to take in the old bird all over again, "Yep-" He murmured deliriously, "Still there."

Heading for the cockpit, still giddy from excitement, wondering where the hell he was… where the Fury was; what had happened, Han stepped again over the huge canvas roll on the floor and was three paces up the corridor before he paused and returned, frowning.

Laid across the floor of the main hold was what looked like a massive roll of very old, stiffened canvas about twice as long as Han was tall and easily as big around as Chewie, tied in the centre with a braid cord.

Frowning, Han nudged the roll with his toe, but it was heavy enough not to move. Reaching out, he took the end of the slip-knot and stepped back, pulling the knot free. The bulky roll immediately sprang open, partly unfurling into a huge stiff sheet across the floor, covering the big hold from wall to wall.

On it was a painting- a very famous painting. It depicted a night-battle beneath the stars of some foreign planet, rendered in blacks and midnight blues, bright flashes of red and caustic yellow traced across the darkness.

It was the artwork Han had wanted to take as payback when they'd first been taken to the Imperial Palace and he'd said he would stay with Luke. He remembered distinctly pointing the massive canvas out; remembered Luke agreeing in the condition that he didn't have to carry it...

As it had unfurled, a small piece of loose flimsiplast was thrown free to float lightly down.

Han fumbled and caught it midair, turning it over. The short message was handwritten and unsigned, but Han recognised Luke's writing. It said simply:  
.

_Now we're even**.**_

**_  
_**Han grinned from ear to ear, then carefully folded up the piece of flimsiplast and stowed it away in his breast pocket.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

.

.

Mara knocked lightly on the Peerless' ready-room and entered without waiting for a reply. Skywalker was stood to the far side with his back to the room, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back, still looking out at the Fury.

She frowned, still uncertain why he remained in such a melancholy mood when the operation was a significant success. Yes there were unexpected complications, but he'd taken the leader of the Rebellion into custody, after two decades of the Empire hunting her, and he'd done so with a small force and minimal conflict or collateral damage, which made her capture that much more embarrassing for the Rebellion.

For herself, right now Mara felt… what? Buoyant; infused with confidence- certain that he would lead them to further victories, more convinced daily of his loyalty to the Empire and positive of Palpatine's faith in him.

She remembered when she had first seen him unconscious in the Perlemian Apartments - now referred to by all as The Heir's Apartments - and the Emperor said that he would lead the Empire one day. Remembered her indifference; her unconvinced disapproval. Now... now she simply couldn't imagine life without him; didn't want to. She had a vague memory of it being… serious and sombre; less stimulating, less energising. But then in the Palace it still was, she supposed- she'd always preferred to be out here in the galaxy… it was just that now, she preferred to be out here, in the galaxy _with Skywalker._

With The Heir.

It had been a rocky road from that first wary meeting to his acknowledgement by Palpatine as the man who would one day rule the Empire, but more and more she had faith in his ability to do just that. More and more she saw in Skywalker the man worthy to be successor to Palpatine. They still had their disagreements, he and the Emperor, the friction often bordering on blatant dissent, and she didn't expect them to stop any time soon. But what she'd once seen as a stubborn obstinate flaw, she recognised now as part of his strength; he wasn't easily browbeaten or bribed, even by a Sith Emperor. In Vader, her master had always sought to create a savant; a loyal advocate - in Luke, he was moulding a leader. She saw that now. Saw the lessons he taught; the distinctions, the subtle adaptations and tolerance - though she doubted Skywalker had that perspective yet.

But he surely would, given time; she believed that absolutely now. Mara couldn't for one moment imagine anyone else in the role Skywalker had achieved. Nor, she suspected, could the Emperor.

Yes, she knew Skywalker still had ties- more probably than Palpatine thought. She'd played a hunch and gone back to check the security images from the prisoners who were transferred over to the Peerless from the scuppered Fury, and Han Solo had been among the prisoners taken onboard and magically, when Mara had checked again less than an hour ago, he was no longer in the manifest. What exactly Skywalker had done with him, she _didn't_ know, but she could pretty much figure out the bigger picture - she knew that Skywalker had kept the Corellian smuggler's freighter in deep storage aboard the Peerless since about three months after he had taken command, and she'd bet a year's salary that it was no longer there.

But this was small-fry, unimportant in the larger scheme of things; one of those quirky little contradictions which made him so intriguing. Luke had taken prisoner all of those of value to their master; had been most conscientious in that.

It was that which she knew now as she looked to his reflection in the tall viewpane to the rear of his ready-room, Luke remaining still and silent, lost in thought, eyes on the hulking shadow of the dead Star Destroyer. It didn't matter, she knew; he had many more in his fleet.

.

Luke stared at the crippled Fury, lost in his own thoughts, changing his focus just momentarily from it to the reflection of Mara Jade in the viewpane then back to the Destroyer again without speaking.

An awful lot of mess and loss in this last desperate tangle and nothing to show for it - on both sides. But at least his was by choice. Could he have caught Madine? Yes, easily when the Peerless had arrived, but he'd ordered them to leave the distant Rebel freighter alone, claiming no-one of value was onboard, telling his Admiral to let it return to its Rebellion with the full tale of their failure and Mothma's loss. The truth was that he wasn't prepared to risk Leia's involvment to catch Madine, and since they were together, if he caught one then he also caught the other. First rule of sabacc; never get pot-committed. So he'd _let_ Madine get away; after everything he'd risked, the price was just too high - this time.

Some small part of him had been tempted to tell the Peerless to disable the tiny Rebel freighter and reel it in, firstly because he wanted Madine and secondly because he wanted to confirm what his Master wanted with Leia. But it would have required a massive editing of Luke's own plans to gain what was probably only a minor and, now that he knew what she was capable of, unsurprising piece of information. Presumably his Master wanted Leia Organa because she was Force-sensetive; he either wanted to train her or he wanted to kill her, and neither were particularly conducive to Luke's own plans.

No- he needed her where she was for now. And he'd needed Han to watch her- and hopefully intervene on Luke's behalf, when it came to the crunch. Leia was integral to his long-term plans and Han… Han was his insurance. That was the _only_ reason for is actions today. He smiled just slightly, the action pulling at the scar over his lips;

And anyway, he couldn't imagine Han Solo without the Falcon - it set the galaxy to rights.

.

Seeing him smile slightly, Mara returned the same, relieved that her initial reading of his mood had been wrong.

"Congratulations." She said; the first time she'd felt safe to do so. "I haven't contacted the Emperor yet. I thought you'd want to make this report yourself."

"No." He replied casually, turning back to walk to his desk. In someone else, she would have thought it false humility, but in Luke she knew it was more calculated than that; he was playing his political games, even now. "Make the report. Send it to…" he paused, glancing up at her without lifting his head, voice teasing wickedly, "…whoever the hell you send those things to that I'm not supposed to know about."

She set an unimpressed expression on her face, head to one side, but was prevented from making any reply by a quick knock at the door. Skywalker gave his best _'how convenient'_ look in return as he spoke out, "Yes."

Lieutenant Fallin, another relatively newly-appointed bridge officer entered, clearing his throat. "Sir, all the prisoners are logged and confined; just under a hundred in total. We're ready to make the jump to join up with the Executor at Nubia. Ops are asking what's to be done with the Bothan ship- the Attin'Cho."

Mara half-turned, reciting the Commander's usual order under such circumstances, "Set it adrift and use it for target practice. Have the gunners…"

"Wait." Luke interjected, "Is it still capable of life-support?"

"No Sir." Fallin replied, glancing down at his automemo which clearly held a 'tech run-down of the freighter before adding, "But I think engineering could get it made ready in a few hours if you require it."

Mara took a long look at the young officer; that kind of initiative wasn't common among his kind anymore; in the Imperial fleet it was more usual to keep one's head down. He was another one of Luke's finds, poached from the ISD Hurricane a few months earlier and given a promotion to earn him a place in the Peerless' bridge crew.

She hadn't failed to notice the recent turnover of staff onboard the Peerless - nor the subtle change in attitude which had accompanied it. There was a pragmatic, get-it-done mindset now; a sense of purpose, promotions depending not on who you knew or where you had trained, but on aptitude and attitude, less relevance placed on following the rules and more on achieving results. The consequent determined optimism was quietly contagious, spreading not just through the Peerless, but beginning to be whispered further afield. Skywalker was no longer leading someone else's forces; he was creating his own.

Luke nodded, "Do so, and leave parts onboard so that its comm system can be repaired."

Mara glanced back, confused, "Why do you want it spaceworthy?"

Luke turned mismatched eyes to her, "The Bothan crew presently held in the detention centre are to be returned to the ship when it's been made safe, then it's to be cast adrift before the Peerless goes to lightspeed."

Mara frowned, "You want to let them go?"

"I _am_ letting them go." He stated simply, tone inviting no argument as he turned back to Fallin, "See to the freighter- quickly as possible; I want to be in lightspeed by the shift change."

Fallin clicked his heels as he bowed his head, "Yes Sir."

He turned smartly and exited, leaving Mara to stare at Luke as he sat down and turned his attention to the automemo on his desk. He remained silent for long moments, but Mara held her peace, and eventually he spoke out without looking up, "You disapprove."

She shrugged, "I simply wonder what you're doing."

"Perhaps I'm feeling generous." he evaded, eyes on the automemo screen.

She smiled just slightly, "Yeah, 'cos I _would_ fall for that."

Luke sighed slightly, looking up. "Well then perhaps it's the fact that in the last three months I've take over sixty-five prisoners, all Bothan. The Attin'Cho was a Bothan ship with a predominantly Bothan crew- if I hold those who were onboard that will effectively double the number of Bothans who have been arrested on my command recently. I've no wish to alienate the Bothan species and create further problems for myself in the future over what's effectively nothing more than circumstance - that's not my objective here."

He turned back to his automemo, voice dismissive. "Plus there's a long-established Bothan spynet which serves the Empire and I don't wish to lose it- and neither dos the Emperor. More importantly, I'm not about to create a time bomb which will make all future dealings with the whole planet difficult simply for the sake of a few political miscreants. To do so would be to hand a moral victory to the Rebellion, and I won't give them something valuable to pull out of this defeat. Let them go."

Mara nodded slowly, very aware of the fact that more and more, Luke was thinking and acting with a real awareness of his future with the Empire - of his eventual position. He was becoming a leader.

"I'll make the arrangements." She said simply, turning to leave. She was at the door before he spoke again, bringing her eyes back to his own.

"Mara-"

He'd always had such flawless sky-blue eyes; now that wide segment of darkest brown left those perfect pale blue eyes mismatched so that when he looked at her, she often felt some vague uneasiness for several moments which she was unable to pin down, just as she did now. Then she would notice afresh the dark shard tainting them… and realise she was staring just a moment too long - just as she was now.

He paused just slightly and she looked away quickly, aware of those mismatched eyes on her, curious. Then he continued, all business again, the moment broken. "The Bothan leader Olin'yaa; he stays- I want to know how the Rebellion got the information about the Dynamic EMP from the restricted Invincible dockyard and how they managed to get the resources to build their own. And I want to know what the Rebellion intended to do with them, because it certainly wasn't for this."

She nodded and turned away, hand to the door release…

"Mara." His voice brought her instantly back round.

"Yes?"

He paused again; "You did well today. Thank-you."

She blinked, unused to praise from him, then shrugged, "We make a good team."

He smiled genuinely, the action pulling the scar through his lips to a crescent, "Yes… we do."

He held her gaze for a few seconds before turning back down to his work and she was left to stare at his dark hair for long seconds before wiping what was probably a very foolish grin off her face and turning to leave.

.

.

.

The two immense wedge-shaped hulls of the Super Star Destroyers made an impressive sight holding position close to Nubia, just beyond the well-travelled trade route crossing points of the Hydian and the Corellian Way. With the two Flagships were a total of nine Imperial-Class Star Destroyers, an outrageous show of force made more for political effect than to actually protect the prisoner they held.

This imposing squadron, a mix of Core and Rim Fleet Destroyers, remained in tight formation, ostensibly awaiting confirmation to make the last leg of the return to Coruscant together, synchronising systems so that they would arrive in orbit at the same time. In truth, the relative Fleet Admirals had made all arrangements hours ago and were simply awaiting confirmation from their Commander-in-Chiefs, who had spoken to each-other only briefly by inter-ship com several hours earlier.  
It was common knowledge among the Fleet that Lord Vader and The Heir had a strained professional relationship bordering on hostility…

And they both worked hard to maintain that perception.

The Heir had continued to work through the changing shift onboard his Flagship, as was his habit, before returning to his quarters to continue working in his private office there, as was also his habit, Mara and Reece retiring for the night when he did.

So no-one noticed the man who slipped away in the carefully-timed gap between the patrolling guards' attention, the surveillance lenses along the corridors about The Heir's quarters always incidentally pointing the wrong way in their pre-programmed sweeps. He left the Peerless on a maintenance lugger, waiting for him in the off-limits bay occupied by the 701st, and landed in the docking bay of the Executor dedicated to Vader's own trusted troops, the 501st. He'd return the same way in a few hours' time, no-one being any the wiser. It wasn't the first time he'd done it and he doubted that it would be the last.

But it was of particular relevance because he had one stop to make, and though the arrangements had been made by his father, for once it wasn't him Luke was going to see.

.

.

Mon woke with a start to the near-darkness of the cell, staring at the blank wall before her. For long seconds she lay still and listened to her heart beat loud… then the slightest of sounds scraped through the darkness behind her, tingling up her spine as she twisted about.

There, crouched down and sat on his heels, leaning back against the far wall, was a hunched, dark-clothed figure who watched her through pale eyes, cold as ice in darkness…

"What do you want?" She had meant it to sound stern and unafraid, but it had come out as little more than a whisper.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He said simply, eyes intent on her.

Mon sat up pulling the thin blanket to her, uncertain what to say, all her resolve bleeding away into the dim shadows. His eyes remained steady on her, face unreadable in the low light, and Mon couldn't help but look again to the deep scar which ran down the right side of is face. She glanced away, then made herself look back as those unsettling, mismatched eyes remained steady on her. Had they always been that; one eye blue, the other cast through with brown, so dark in the low light as to seem almost black.

"You're being taken to Coruscant for trial." He said finally, voice emotionless, "I should imagine the verdict is pretty much a foregone conclusion."

"Is that what you're here for? To gloat?"

"No." he seemed strangely placid, not rising to her angry accusation. "I thought you would want to know. Nobody should have to go to death unprepared."

Mon felt lightheaded at this, angry and outraged all at once, her passion giving her courage.

"I'm not afraid of you." She announced, and he moved just slightly, making her start despite her words.

"Yes you are. You'd be a fool not to be, and you were never that, Mon. Blind perhaps- willing to be led."

She frowned into the shadows, shaking her head in refusal. "I'm not going to play your word-games."

He remained hunched against the wall, a shadow in darkness, those star-bright eyes glinting. "No? Not even once, for old-time's sake?"

Mon searched his face in the dusky light, but nothing was there save expectant amusement, any real intent or emotions well hidden, the man she had thought she knew completely discarded.

"Do you have anything you'd like me to pass on?" he asked at last, completely serious.

"To whom?" Mon challenged, "We hardly move in the same circles."

He only shrugged, unoffended. "To the Alliance perhaps…to Leia. I know how close you were to her."

Mon shivered at the realisation that he spoke to her in the past tense - as if she were already dead. Then realisation of what he'd said brought her chin up, "Leave Leia alone!"

He shook his head, bringing his steepled fingers up before his scarred face, the deep slice through his lips twisting as he smiled just slightly, "I can't do that, Mon. You started a war- _you_ opened the floodgates."

She shook her head, "Don't blame me for your own vindictive desire for revenge."

"I have no need for further revenge - the score is settled. And in truth it was only partly that anyway; my desire to remove you coincided with your attack. The latter hid the former- bought me permission I would never otherwise have had."

She frowned, uncertain, and he tilted his head just slightly, murmuring gently though that did nothing to ease Mon's trepidation. "You see I have plans… an Empire to build. When all the obstacles are removed."

"She'll stop you." Mon said of Leia, absolutely sure.

He smiled genuinely, but in anticipation rather than agreement. "Perhaps. If anybody can then it's her... but I don't think so."

"She knows what you are."

"So did you, Mon." he said easily, "But you still let me lead you."

Mon dropped her head, rubbing at her temples, lost. He gave her the time, not speaking as she struggled to come to terms with this; the realisation that he would go after another leader, then another, then another. Hunt them down; single them out and split them from the pack then close in for the kill - like the wolf Palpatine always claimed he was.

And still he sat, mute and mild, watching her with those strangely mismatched feral eyes…

"Why?" She murmured at last, "Why do you hate us?"

He only shrugged, impassive. "I don't hate you, Mon. But as I said, I have plans - and you were in the way."

Mon lifted her chin in defiance, "How inconvenient for you."

"Yes it was. And I had no idea how to deal with it, none at all. Until you forced my hand- made it personal."

"You think removing me will make a difference but it won't - not at all. You'll only feed the fire. Leia will replace me. She'll lead the Alliance when I'm gone."

"Why Leia?" He asked, openly curious.

"She was born to lead. It's in her blood…" Mon paused, unsure why that statement seemed to interest the Sith so very much.

"Why Leia- why not Madine?"

"You know why - have you forgotten or did you never really listen?" Mon said, but he remained silent, expectant… and as good as she was, Mon fell for the oldest trick in the book and kept talking; "Madine is a General, and a good one, but he's a military man and ours is not a military organisation, no matter what we have been forced into. The military are there to support the Alliance's ideals- not to lead. Leia is a political leader therefore she can take power… Madine never could. But she's also a pragmatist- and a fighter. She'll find a way to bring your precious Empire…"

He rose, making Mon's words trail off.

"Thank-you, Mon." He said at last, his tone indicating that the conversation was finished as far as he was concerned.

"What…?" Mon Mothma rose, uncertain.

"Thank-you. Since I didn't catch Madine this time, I needed to be sure that Leia and not Madine would take command before I could move forward. Anybody else would have required an editing of my plans."

He gazed at her for long seconds, face strangely open yet completely emotionless. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, Mon - but the choices were yours, not mine."

She shook her head, "I don't regret them."

"Really?" He looked at her for a long time, eyes calculating, searching…

Luke sighed, reluctant; aware that he should simply turn and leave… but unable to do so. Whether it was to ensure his ongoing plans or simply settle his curiosity he didn't know, but he wanted, _needed_ to do this; to make this offer. If she proved him wrong and took him up on it, he had absolutely no idea what he would do. But he _still_ had to make it- if only to answer his own jaded conscience. "If I told you that I could help you - help the Alliance covertly - that there may be a way to work together to…"

She lifted her chin in defiance, cutting him off. "We don't _need_ your help. We can fight our own battles."

His silence invited further comment, and Mon heard her own voice harden as she issued through clenched teeth, "I don't _trust_ you; and nothing you can do and nothing you can say would ever make me."

Even this he seemed strangely tolerant of. "No- I thought as much… but I had to try."

He glanced back up, his smile reminding her momentarily of the idealistic boy she had known… but that effortless smile turned so easily into a feral grin, "Time to move on..."

And finally, like a bolt from the darkness, Mon Mothma put all the pieces together - his offer to pass any message on _to Leia_, his confidence that he could, his need to know that Leia would succeed Mon…

"You're in contact with Leia!"

"Among others." He allowed, no triumph at all in his voice. "Don't worry, Mon; she's not a traitor. She doesn't know it's me- yet."

Before she knew what she was doing, Mon had lunged forward, striking out, connecting a hard blow across his face.

He caught her hand as it left him, yanking it down to leave her defenceless, his own body tensing...

Then he smiled, though it never reached those cold eyes. "I'll give you that one, Mon - perhaps I deserve it."

She tried to pull free, but he held her wrist, grip like steel. His gaze stayed on her for a long time, contradictory emotions flitting across those disquieting, mismatched eyes.

Eventually he half-shrugged as he let her go, the action casually dismissive though there was something- some unspoken apology in the tone of his words. "Look at it this way, Mon- one way or another, you walk free of this prison in a few days. I'm serving a life sentence."

She frowned, confused at his words, but still striking out, "I hope it's an eternity."

"Every day, Mon." He assured as he turned to leave, "Every single day."

.

.

Vader was aware of his son's approach long before the commotion began outside his quarters onboard the Executor- though commotion may have been the wrong word, as brief as it was. There were two guards in the long corridor which led to his door, its entrance closed for the night, permitting no further visitors. Vader heard the sharply spoken words then sensed the brief spike in the Force, followed by silence…

He stood, waiting for his son to enter, aware that the boys' senses were ablaze with confusion and anger.

The heavy, reinforced door ground open forcefully against its own inset bolts, not even slowing Luke as he stormed in.

"You once told me that I was beyond Light and Darkness. Why!?"

Vader kept his voice calm in the face of the boy's obvious vehemence, "Because you are everything that I once was - but you are not only my son. You are your mother's child as much as you are mine and no evil could ever come from her. If you had known her, you would know that absolutely."

Luke stared wild-eyed and disbelieving, and Vader knew it was not enough. "Because if Darkness could claim you it would have done so long ago."

"How do you know that it hasn't?" It was almost a plea, part desperation and part fear.

"You are not evil." Vader stated simply.

To hear, simply to hear those words, was a release in itself and Luke's sense and voice calmed as he took a trembling breath.

"How do you _know_?" he repeated.

"Darkness would not ask," Vader assured. "Darkness would not _care_."

Luke considered for a long time, eyes skipping the room, mind racing. "Palpatine told me I was lost- he was right."

Vader shook his head, "You are not lost. You are finding your way- finding yourself."

Luke let out a broken sigh, shaking his head, "I've surrendered everything I believed in."

"For what?"

"For…" Luke faltered, frowning.

"For everything that you now believe - everything you _know_." Vader finished, bass voice sure and confident. "The world is never as simple as our childhood wishes- at some point, we must all accept that truth… we must grow up and put impossible ideals behind us."

Luke glanced up, "What if I'm wrong?

"As long as you consider that possibility, then…"

Luke shook his head, unwilling to be mollified so easily, "No- that's just words. This is _lives_- people I…"

"Respect?" Vader said into Luke's guilt-ridden hesitance. "It is no weakness to respect your enemies."

"She isn't my enemy."

"She tried to kill you."

"Maybe she was right."

"Then why did you stop her?" Vader asked of his son; not a challenge, but a genuine request for an explanation.

Luke considered for a long time, shaking his head slowly. "Because I had to- she and others like her will just maintain the status-quo. The war will never end- old prejudices and deep wounds will always hold them apart. They've fought too long; become too entrenched, and Palpatine will always use that against them. They're lost in their ideals." He considered his words for a long time, looking for answers to the questions they posed- though all he found was further questions; "But that doesn't necessarily make them wrong."

"Nor you, for stopping them."

Luke sighed, silent again, considering. Vader too held his peace; he knew better now than to push too hard- the boy would come to his own conclusions; he always did. This was merely a sounding, a testing of his viewpoint. He glanced up at his father now, looking for confirmation as he spoke. "Palpatine's no better, his actions only fuel the extremism and he knows it- wants it. He would never negotiate but he'll never wipe them out because he doesn't want peace, only an opportunity to exercise his supremacy. We can never move forward whilst people like that hold power."

"Then change it."

Luke turned away, knowing where his father was leading him. But hadn't he considered this himself- it was after all, why he'd gone after Mothma in the first place. Was this the time to finally acknowledge it out loud? Because he couldn't do this without his father's help - or at the very least his willing disregard of Luke's actions.

He shook his head, unable to say it out loud yet, "If I removed him then whoever took power would have their own agenda."

"There is an easy way to guarantee that the Emperor's agenda is your own."

Again Luke shook his head, "No. I have no right to take power."

"If you believe the Emperor's actions unbefitting, then you should stop him. Isn't that what you had always intended to do?"

The boy remained hesitant, so Vader tried again, "You believe his actions destructive - that he should be removed from power." they were long past prevarication now; it was in neither of their characters to do so and the boy had danced on the edge of treason long enough.

Luke lifted his chin, decisive. "I believe there's no place for people like that in a new order."

"Your New Order."

"Everyones." Luke avoided.

"But you will lead it. Because no-one else can."

Luke considered, eyes down, lost in thought.

"You will do what has to be done." Vader continued, voice very sure, pushing his son on, only now able to nudge Luke into the path Vader had chosen for him four years ago- and so of course for himself. "You will always do that- it is in your nature; you will look for a path, you will find a way and you will make it happen. You _will _make it happen- _that_ is when stubbornness is a strength. You will never shy away from what needs to be done."

His son remained silent for long seconds, eyes to the floor as his mind raced; were he able, Vader would have held his breath in rapt anticipation. Luke frowned, mismatched eyes hidden beneath a thoughtful scowl… then he nodded; just once, but firmly, the decision finally made, the path committed to... for both of them - together. And just like that, in the single nod of a head, four years of anticipation came to fruition for Vader.

"I'll broker peace." Luke said at last, a challenge in his voice for his father to disagree with his ultimate intent.

"Your peace." Vader underlined. "Your way."

"_My_ way." Luke confirmed, and Vader smiled beneath is mask, aware of the significance of the moment - that this was the first time that they had come to any accord in this. That he could finally move forward with his son at his side.

If the boy wanted some invented belief to ease his conscience, then let him have it. When he held power, when he realised what he could do - that all previous barriers were eradicated - he would reconsider. But those barriers must first be removed. "And the Emperor?"

Luke remained silent for a long time, his face and sense slowly hardening to Vader's searching perceptions as he finally acknowledged the necessary truth.

"He doesn't feature." Luke stated calmly, "At all."


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

.

.

Mara paused in the Peerless' corridor, leaning back against the wall. _Do it or not, Jade. Make your mind up._

Still she hesitated, mind a flurry of exhilaration, guilt, uncertainty, nerves… She glanced up at the surveillance lens on the ceiling, knowing its cycle of movement exactly - when it showed her end of the corridor; the crossover between lenses; Force knew, she'd sat and stared at the monitors enough nights. She glanced again down the empty corridor- he allowed no guards either; onboard his flagship, things worked to his own rules, and rule number one was _No Guards._ There were plain-clothes guards watching of course, at the Emperor's command, but Mara knew their routines and had picked this moment in the early hours of the morning very specifically.

What she hadn't intended was to hesitate, and if she didn't take this chance right now, then she wouldn't get another for hours. Taking a deep breath, she walked quickly and casually down the corridor and keyed the override code to open the door to Skywalker's apartments. She catstepped quickly into still darkness, momentarily blinded as she went from the light of the corridor to the pitch black of his quarters. Still holding her breath, she started forward-

And a weight like a Ronto bulldozed into her from the side, impacting with her left shoulder and sending her staggering away as she rolled with the blow-

Years of honed survival instincts cut in and somehow she remained upright, half-staggering, half-sidestepping clear, her right hand automatically grabbing for her gun - but Luke was on her in a split-second, hand reaching out from behind and grabbing at her wrist, twisting it and her gun up as he stepped in behind her-

Her gun hand pinned, Mara pulled her left arm back, elbow catching him heavily in the ribs, hearing his breath leave him in a rough gasp in the darkness though he managed to hook his other hand around her arm, pinning it to her side-

She snapped her head back without hesitation, intending to catch him in the face now that he was close behind her, but he was already ducking down and stepping back from her limited range. Still, she managed to free her left arm at roughly the same moment that he finally forced her to break her hold on her blaster-

Using the hold he had on her right arm as a solid pivot point, Mara swung around on her right leg, lifting her knee as she spun, intending to deliver a high kick, but he was already crouching from avoiding her last blow, so grabbed at her right ankle and yanked it up, dropping her heavily to the floor on her back, the air knocked from her lungs with enough force to flash stars in the darkness-

She scrambled back and twisted to her side, reaching for the vibroblade she wore in a scabbard at the small of her back as he lunged forward, dragging her arm away and twisting her onto her back, dropping his bodyweight onto her body over her hips to hold her still, his silence terrifying. She tried to kick up with her knees but his legs were already on hers so she lunged out with the heel of her hand. His reflexes were just too fast and she brushed past his jaw, his hand coming from no-where to pull her arm up and pin it to the floor above her head-

Mara struck out with her other hand as he leaned over her, intending to hit him in the throat, but he caught the heel of her hand against his own, powering it back- Again she writhed to free herself, putting all the strength of her stomach and legs into the movement-

"Stop it! _STOP!!"_ Luke shouted, dragging Mara's arms together to pin them both with one of his own, and she was so shocked that she fell loose for a moment before finally finding her voice.

"What the hell are you _doing_?!"

"What am _I_ doing?!" he yelled, disbelieving, hand reaching down to brush her sides, obviously searching for any other weapons. Mara heaved her body up again but he sat down heavily, pushing his own bodyweight down against her, pinning her again. "You're lucky I don't bounce you off all four walls!"

"For what!?"

"Seriously? You sneak in here in the middle of the night…"

"You're _kidding_ me!" Mara shouted, trying one last time to wrench her hands free, "Let _go_!"

He loosened his hold slightly but stayed where he was and she pulled an arm free but didn't strike out, instead letting it flop out beside her as she blew a breath upwards to waft her long hair from her face, glancing up at him and realising belatedly in the wan light that he was in his nightwear, chest bare, pale, drawstring sleep-trousers twisted from the scuffle.

"What the hell are you doing creeping in here in the middle of the night?" He repeated, but his voice had lowered as he calmed a little.

"I was coming to see you! Don't tell me you didn't know that."

"Yes I knew- I picked you up two levels down, sneaking around."

"I wasn't _sneaking around_."

"Well you sure as hell didn't want to be seen." he countered pointedly.

"So naturally, you took that as a license to floor me."

"I hate to quote precedents, but you just drew a blaster." He said, unapologetic.

"You tried to floor me!"

"You had a blaster!"

"Fine. Whatever. I'm not gonna argue specifics with you." She glanced around casually, "Where's my gun?"

"Right, because I _am_ gonna give it back to you." he deadpanned.

Mara grinned wickedly, "Worried?"

He raised his eyebrows, letting his weight drop a little against her, "From up here? No."

"Well since you're not worried, could I have my other arm back?" She asked dryly, and he released her wrist, sitting up on his heels now, his bodyweight lifted slightly from Mara's hips.

They stared at each-other in the faint starlight for long moments.

"Feel like getting off yet?" she asked caustically.

"I don't know if I'm that unworried." he said, but she felt the last of his weight lift from her as he stood, then leaned forward, offering his hand. She stared at him warily for long seconds but he didn't move, so eventually she reached up to take it and he hauled her upright.

"Better?" he asked into her still-narrowed eyes.

"I will be when I get my gun back." She said, glancing around in the near-darkness.

He grinned, throwing her own challenge back at her; "Why- worried?"

"Yes," She countered tartly, "It was a very expensive gun."

"Well then you shouldn't let people take it off you so easily." He parried.

"Hey- you are the _only_ person who can take that blaster off me unarmed." she argued unequivocally, but he was turning away, heading into the bedroom he must have come from when he had first sensed her. Mara glanced inside, noting peripherally that his bed was still neatly made; he hadn't been asleep then, despite his appearance.

"Only one is one too many." he said genially without stopping, tiredness creeping into his voice now.

It was very… human. And strangely appealing, reminding Mara of why she had headed up here in the first place, pushing her to keep him talking… "So, are you generally in the habit of bulldozing anyone who comes calling or did I catch you at a bad moment?"

"No I'm not, but then most people knock- or call in advance; that's why we have comlinks." he said, still walking.

"You never carry a comlink." Mara said.

He finally paused, turning as if realising she wasn't about to take the hint and leave, "Is there a _reason_ you're here?" he asked with forced good grace.

Not sure how to just out and out say it, Mara hedged, "Not surprisingly, I've forgotten. I think I'm concussed." she added theatrically.

Luke raised his eyebrows unimpressed, turning to lean against the doorframe to his sleeping quarters, "I think your skull's thicker than that, Red."

She ignored that, massaging her wrist, "I also think my arm will be black and blue tomorrow."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, remember that my ribs will be looking exactly the same."

Mara considered, glancing down at his bare torso as he lifted his hand to it, "Yeah, I think it does a little."

"Good. Can I go to bed now?"

She stared at him long seconds… and when she spoke again, it was with genuine frustration in her voice, "You are the _hardest_ person to keep talking."

"You're not actually talking about anything!" he charged, exasperated.

"Just…" she stuttered to momentary silence, so irate was she, "…Why the hell do you _think_ I'm here!?"

He stood upright, bewildered frustration raising his own voice, "I don't know - _that's_ why I'm asking!!"

"Maybe you should have done that _before_ you tried to break my arm!"

"You had a gun!"

"I _always_ have a gun."

"Exactly! I was going with the odds." A slight edge was creeping into his voice now, prompting the same in hers.

"Oh, what does that mean?"

He shied back from stating exactly what had been in his mind- that he had secretly visited his father on the Executor earlier tonight; that together they had effectively agreed to depose the Emperor. _That_ was the reason that he thought she'd crept into his quarters; that she somehow knew what had transpired, had already reported it to the Emperor and was now carrying out his resultant order. "It means Palpatine's assassin just broke into my rooms under cover of darkness at the precise moment that all those 'non-existent' watchers happened to be elsewhere- you figure it out."

"You think I came to kill you!?"

"It's what you are."

She stepped forward, at once confused and offended , "Why!? Why the hell would I kill you _now_?"

"I don't know- you don't generally seem to need a reason." he charged, unrepentant. "You just do as you're told."

"You son of a sauron…" Incensed, she raised her hand and he turned on her, hand lifting, finger out in blunt warning,

"_Don't!"_

Mara swung a tight, powerful blow intended to connect with his face and his hand shot out to catch it, stopping her dead, twisting her hand behind her and yanking her forward in one fast move with enough force to send her barrelling into him, her arm twisted behind her back.

Caught, she glanced up, free hand pulling back, a curse on her lips-

And he leaned in and kissed her. Fervently; passionately, his hand to her arched neck, pulling her to him.

Her balled fist fell lax as she leaned in to the kiss, all else forgotten, all differences and reservations abandoned before this greater desire, finally seeming as much his as hers. Still held captive, she pushed him forwards and he backstepped through the doorway with her, their bodies never breaking contact as she leaned her weight against him and he fell back onto the bed, arms wrapping about her waist, pulling her with him.

She smiled, grinned in the muted starlight as she kissed him fiercely, eagerly, fingers in his hair, distantly feeling his hand slide smoothly from her hip to the small of her back to pull free the vibroblade she kept there, its dull double-thud as he flung it to the side and it hit the floor unheeded in the heat of all-encompassing passion...

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	18. Chapter 18

Mara woke suddenly, aware of being watched, and glanced about the darkened room, momentarily thrown by her sleepy state as to where she was. Lit by the cold light of distant stars reaching in through the viewport, Luke was sat on a chair to the far side of the room, a long linen dressing gown wrapped loosely about him, unfastened. He stared at her without blinking for long moments, making her uneasy before those piercing mismatched eyes.

"You need to learn to hide your thoughts." He said at last, "And you need to learn to do it tonight. Tomorrow we'll be at Coruscant."

She sat up, holding the sheet about her, pushing her long red hair back from her face to cascade down her bare back, intense red against pale skin. "I already know how to shield."

"From Palpatine." he corrected, making her glance down uneasily.

"It's a little too late for second thoughts." He said, cooly, but without judgement.

Luke had spent the last hour sat in the chair watching her sleep, giving their… _situation_ serious consideration. If he did this, if he taught her how to hide specific thoughts from Palpatine as he could - and how to hide the fact that she was hiding anything - then he was also teaching her to do the same from himself. A serious consideration when in truth he trusted her so little.

He'd also considered the implications of teaching her a technique which she could very easily take back to Palpatine, providing him with a breakdown of the methods Luke employed and a willing accomplice on whom his Master could practice breaking those same shields which Luke applied, presently with such success.

But he'd also considered that, like him, she had simply made a foolish, impetuous mistake last night, which in the cold, mercilessly logical light of day, she was already beginning to regret.

One which she was determined never to repeat- just as he was. The costs were just too high.

Either way, he couldn't in all good conscience send her back to Palpatine unprotected. Not when he knew, as they both did, how outraged their master would be at this… incident. He frowned; _good conscience_. An interesting choice of words for a Sith, he reflected.

Or was it that at all? Wasn't the truth far more damning-

He had wanted something to control her, something to test her loyalties and pry her away from Palpatine. She would _never_ admit this tryst to the Emperor, Luke knew that; had tested that theory repeatedly in the last few months - if on a much smaller scale. Which meant that in order to maintain this secret, she would now have to lie to Palpatine. And she would have to rely on Luke to do the same. She would have to _trust_ him. Which limited how much she could inform on him; it was difficult to betray someone who had equally damning information on you.

A reasonable, logical course of action to control a spy he couldn't remove… or was this simply a rationaization to cover a moment of weakness? Why did it feel like he had gone too far and it had all become very, _very_ complicated?

Because there was of course, one problem with letting someone past one's shields; they were within striking distance. And now, suddenly, that made him very uncomfortable. He'd sworn he'd never be vulnerable again - he'd paid the price too often, and he wouldn't give Palpatine another weakness to control him with.

He had to push her back; for her own safety as much as his own sanity, he couldn't afford this weakness. He had to stop this _now_. He'd let her closer only to control her, nothing more. _Nothing_ more. The fault was his not hers; he'd thought he could ignore her feelings, remain removed from them, use them to control her, at least partially. And it had worked… at least partially. But to control her, he'd had to let her close…

He sat back, running his fingers through long, tangled hair, pointedly not following that thought any further.

.

Mara watched him fall back against the chair, running his fingers through his wild hair, which fell smoothly back about his face and halfway to his shoulders, its loose curl twisting into disarray, dark tone reflecting the starlight. The memory of running her fingers through it, soft as silk, lit a twist of heat in her stomach and curled the edges of her lips up in appreciation.

And still he just sat, looking at her.

"You think we made a mistake." she said at last.

"Don't you?" he countered, no answer at all. He always did that, when he wished to avoid; answered a question with a question.

"I asked first."

"It's not a competition."

"Ohhh..." She grinned, tilting her head to the side, amused. "You're never gonna answer that are you?"

"Are you?" he asked quietly.

"When you do."

He rose, not bothering to close his gown as he walked past her into the fresher. "Ah - then apparently it _is_ a competition."

The door slid closed behind him, leaving her completely in the dark.

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Luke walked across the long, wide expanse of the Attendants Hall, the antechamber to the main Throne Room where the Emperor held Court nightly. He looked neither left nor right in the always-crowded space, meeting no-one's eye though that would have been difficult anyway; with his entrance, the Hall had stilled to silence, everyone now bowing in a wave of polite deference as he walked on.

Much as he disliked it, he was a familiar figure here, generally ordered to attend Court with his Master whenever he was in residence at the Palace, often summoned on the night of his return as he had been tonight, without even the opportunity to return to his apartments first.

He'd always hated the Throne Rooms; despised the petty machinations of greedy men willing to sell their own soul or their brother's head for even the opportunity to further their personal goals. But slowly, over time, forced again and again to attend and to deal with petty bureaucrats and power-hungry Royals, he had learned the conventions of Court- the rules and regulations, the customs and traditions.

'_Knowing the Court'_ was crucial for day-to-day dealings within the Palace, and Luke came to realise the value of watching and listening, employing his own recruits to remain always informed. Networks and alliances, both obvious and subtle, constantly shifted here, their influence rippling out beyond it like stones in a pond. In an environment where nothing was obtained without pulling strings, such information was vital both to aid intentions and offset losses.  
And even this was a game within a game; kept close to the Emperor whenever he was at the Palace, Luke soon came to realise that Palpatine not only encouraged these trysts but often instigated them, showing favour to those who played the games by the rules, distinguishing Courtiers who did so with acknowledgements and permissions to pass from the Attendant's Hall into the Throne Room,

Strict rules and ceremony covered everything, decreeing anything from who had access to the Emperor, to the titles employed in Court, to the right to sit in an armchair, a highback chair, a stool, or whether one could sit at all whilst 'En Court'.

In the Emperor's presence of course, no-one sat.

The endless rules had seemed petty, pointless and elitist when Luke had first arrived, but forced to accompany the Emperor through countless days, he'd slowly come to recognise that they had been put in place as much for the Emperor's benefit as any insular discrimination; Courtiers arguing amongst themselves and bickering about who had and had not adhered to the insignificant trivia of countless Court customs had neither the time to mount any real organised opposition, nor access to enough of the other Royal Houses to form a solid front without infighting breaking out or being subtly instigated by Palpatine. Those few who did rise above it often found themselves the object of attacks by other Houses based on the slightest of asides from the Emperor, always eager to incite and encourage infighting. The pack mentality was paramount here - anyone who showed any weakness was singled out, the pack attacking at the first smell of blood. Divide and conquer.

His father had no time for any of it, Luke knew, but for himself, he'd learned that it had its place. No matter how under duress, he was at the Palace far more than is father; ignoring it was not an option, since as Heir he had found himself more and more caught up in its influence, and hard experience had taught him that he would be a fool to dismiss something without understanding the dangers it represented. If he chose _not_ to do something - not to adhere to rules or expectations - he should know what the repercussions would be, and for those times when he chose to play the game, he needed to know _all_ the rules - if only to bend and break them. He'd long since learned to run with the pack.

The tall double-doors glided open as he approached, the four Royal Guard who stood to constant attention there whether Court was in session or not stepping smartly to the side.

Luke walked on without hesitation, keeping his eyes forward as he strode into the thick gloom of the massive, imposing expanse of the Throne Room, the myriad of cut rock-crystal lights which hung from the lofty vaulted and reeded ceilings making the gilded walls glow with diffuse shards of soft, reflected light. He walked forward to the rustle of heavy cloth as the multitude of Courtiers within bowed in a rolling wave at his passing, their faces lost in the shadows, Luke's complete attention on his Master - and the shields necessary to protect his own thoughts against him.

"My Jedi returns!" Palpatine stated, tone dryly amused as Luke walked the long aisle to the Dais.

He set his head on one side as Luke reached the pale inset semi-circle of stone on the floor before the Sunburst Throne and stepped smoothly into a kneeling bow before his Master with a minimal dip of his head, one knee to the floor.

"You seem to be missing something, my friend…" Palpatine continued, pausing theatrically, "Ah! A Star Destroyer!"

Though it was routine in the vast Rim Regions where the Rebellion was more entrenched, this was the first time that Luke had ever lost a Destroyer in battle, so he'd expected his Master to take this opportunity to crow. He rose, unperturbed, noting that Palpatine had neglected to mention the 'loss' of General Veers. "I think it bought you something far more valuable, Excellency." he said levelly.

Palpatine leered, indulgent, "Indeed? And what did the Fury buy me?"

"One ship for two heads, Master."

"Two?"

"I understand the Executor visited Degobah recently."

The Emperor's expression changed not a whit at his Jedi's unexpected knowledge of the Executors' mission, but his sense cooled several degrees. "Indeed. It found very little, however."

Luke forced himself not to blink before that searching gaze, "Perhaps Lord Vader searches in the wrong place?"

"He searched where you advised, Jedi."

He loved doing this, Luke knew; holding a private conversation in open Court which only the people involved would understand. Knowledge was power, and his Master treasured any opportunity to illustrate this.

"If you command, I'll return to Degobah and aid in the search. I very much doubt that his quarry has left."

Perhaps he shouldn't have said that; it hinted too closely that he knew the truth. Palpatine watched his Jedi in silence for long seconds, yellow-flecked eyes narrowed in consideration, but Luke had long since learned not only to mask his thoughts, but to conceal the fact that they were being hidden, so he had only to brazen this out - though beneath his Masters razor-sharp scrutiny, that was no small thing. He had been caught before by the smallest of slips and any hesitation was as good as an admission of guilt.

The Emperor remained silent and Luke arranged the slightest shade of confusion on his face; nothing too indignant or offended, just simple lack of perception as to his Master's suspicion.

"No." the Emperor said at last, "Lord Vader found nothing because there was nothing left to find. Only lifeless ruins."

"Lifeless?" Luke feigned realisation.

"It seems my enemies will resort to any means to escape my wrath." The Emperor said, loud enough for all to hear, his mood lightening again.

Luke knew better than to allow this matter to drop too quickly though; it would be out of character, "He's sure? How long?"

"Long enough," Palpatine said, and Luke knew that his Master didn't know; was made certain of the fact by Palpatine's moving on of the conversation, though not too obviously. "And what else did you bring me in exchange for the Fury?"

Luke looked to his Master, not missing the cue. He had of course informed Palpatine of the missions' success before entering hyperspace for the journey back - knew that Mara would have done so even before that, passing on a full breakdown of the events and his own actions… those she knew of - but this was clearly to be the official announcement of Mothma's capture.

"I bring the leader of the Rebellion against you, Master." He announced loudly enough for his voice to carry, "Mon Mothma is in your possession now- the fate of any who challenge the Empire."

It was a subtle distinction - Luke's defence of the Empire rather than the Emperor - but it was meant only for the ears of the few, its relevance lost beneath the greater revelation for the majority.

The susurration travelled through the crowd in a wave of astonishment, igniting a burst of emotion in the Force strong enough to make Luke flinch slightly, his head jerking back, though he never took his eyes from the Emperor.

Palpatine smiled, settling back, "You have done well, my friend. Very well." He feigned careful consideration, making Luke narrow his eyes in cautious suspicion. "Two of my greatest enemies, delivered at my feet. Yes - the cost was small indeed."

The Emperor leaned forward, tone indulgent, "And what would my Wolf like as his reward?"

Luke bowed his head, dipping his shoulders, deeply wary. "To continue to serve, Master- nothing more is necessary."

"You are too modest, my friend. Such an act deserves reward…" the Emperor paused theatrically, considering, and Luke kept his gaze down to hide his unease; _What's he up to?_

"My new Super Star Destroyer is to be delivered here within months- it's yours, my friend. Your new flagship."

Luke didn't look up, aware that he had been cornered - to refuse before Court would be an intolerable breach in etiquette, but the new Destroyer would be bristling with covert surveillance and concealed stealth equipment of new design, much of which would have been developed in direct response to Luke's ability to detect and disable existing equipment, _all_ of which would have to be dealt with and cleared from sensitive areas before Luke could resume his own operations.

The Peerless had been his safe haven and Palpatine knew it.

"An unwarranted reward, Excellency." Luke said, raising knowing eyes to his Master's taunting grin. In truth, he'd expected some reprisal when his Master found out that Master Yoda was already dead, whether Palpatine believed Luke knew or not; it was in his Master's nature. But that didn't mean that Luke shouldn't maintain some sense of tactfully injured pride before the Emperor- any less would seem fraudulent.

He'd become accustomed to these games within games, either before an attentive audience or in his Master's private Council Chambers. The public presentation of Emperor and Heir - no visible discord and therefore no opportunity for those in Court to try to play one against the other - hid the more fractious game played between a conceited, distrustful Master and a reluctant, wilful advocate; the veiled battle of wills which that always entailed. And beneath this was another layer of powerplays, that of manipulations and evasions, absolute authority maintaining precedence over stealthy insurrection.

It was second nature to Luke now, this life, these games; allies were unreliable unless one had the means to guarantee their loyalty and adversaries were little more than opportunities to be used and discarded. The only way to avoid the same was to stay beyond reach.

Power gained position and position gained power, as his Master was so fond of reciting. There was no room for weakness here, where integrity and morality were crippling flaws- he'd learned that lesson too. The only way to remain beyond reach was to lead the pack, credibly and decisively; the moment one showed the slightest hesitation the mob would turn - and Luke had no intention of falling to this pack of cold-blooded self-serving scavengers.

It had become is driving mantra- to outlast them all, if only out of sheer wilful obstinacy. Every time he came back, every time he walked among the scavengers and the manipulators and the opportunists, he felt his own determination fire. That he wouldn't crumble for Palpatine's amusement, that he wouldn't be dragged down by the pack. Every time he stood among them he felt the same resentment, the same revulsion, firing that same refusal to succumb; to lay down and die for someone else's gain. The determination to prevail, to become invulnerable; untouchable… whatever the cost.

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**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

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The trial was held in the massive State Room on the lower levels of the South Tower, an exercise in Imperial pomp and propaganda, a host of high-ranking officials and Royal Houses 'invited' to attend.

It seemed to Luke to be little more than a poorly disguised indulgence of the Emperor's ego- but then he had expected no less.

It had been made clear that he was expected to spend a spell on Coruscant, so he'd hardly been surprised when he had returned to his apartments to be presented with a formal invitation to attend the final verdict. The representatives had waited- to deliver the message by hand rather than for a reply; any 'invitation' on the Emperor's behalf was to be viewed as a direct command and never refused.

In a typical display of overindulgence, it had been delivered on a gold platter by two messengers accompanied by four Royal Guards. Luke had taken the vellum card, glanced at its content then turned away, dropping it on the table nearby without comment. The act would, he was sure, have been studiously reported to Palpatine before the night was out.

The verdict, when it was finally delivered, was hardly unanticipated…

The morning of the execution was bright and still, and Luke had briefly stayed huddled beneath his sheets, turning breakfast away before rising and chiding himself for his own irresolute morals. He'd made his decisions; he should at least have the integrity to stand by them now.

Despite his quiet protestations and subtle avoidances, his Master had made it very clear that Luke _would_ attend Mothma's execution just after midday, Chancellor Amedda contacting Luke's Aides to announce that the Emperor had ordered an 'Honor Compliment' of twelve Red Guards to be sent to his quarters at the relevant time to accompany him to the event- just to clarify the situation.

Still, when Luke had ordered Darrick to bring a pale jacket and white shirt, his dresser had raised his eyebrows in politic silence, though the old man knew better than to say anything out loud. The Emperor always had members of his entourage dress in what were termed 'Court Livery'; scarlet, midnight blue or, for those in his closest entourage, black. Though he was entitled, Luke seldom wore black- but to wear pale tones today would be a glaring statement of dissent.

Aware of his silent disapproval as the old man studiously brushed at imaginary specks on the pale, impeccably-fitted jacket, Luke had turned on his Dresser, issuing a sharp rebuke and dismissal which caused the old man to shrink back, head low, leaving Luke with yet another reason to feel guilty. After long minutes of consideration, he'd called Darrick back in and asked him to bring something more suitable and the old man had nodded diplomatically, nothing more needing to be said.

But it meant that when Mara had arrived, Luke was still in his dressing room, so she knocked quietly and leaned in through the door in an unprecedented display of familiarity as Darrick bowed and left with his customary silent discretion.

She didn't speak as he tied the fasteners of his high-collared jacket; didn't rush him. Maybe she too had sensed the atmosphere in his apartments, everyone tip-toeing around him with wary caution - with good reason, considering his mood for the last few days Or maybe it was another softening of the battle-lines long-since drawn between them, but even she had enough tact to be moderate today.

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Mara watched Luke smooth non-existent creases in his dark jacket, eyes down, jaw locked, clearly agitated, as he had been every day since his return to Coruscant, walking a knife-edge of guilt, but for a very different reason to her own, she suspected.

When they'd reached Coruscant the reality of their transgression had hit Mara with devastating force, guilt seeping into her at what she needed to do when they returned to the Palace - who she had to lie to - the realisation washing a wave of anxious agitation over her. "What will we do?" she 'd whispered.

"You'll do as I taught you." He'd said calmly, gazing silently out into the massed lights of the glowing planet, "He has no way to know unless you tell him."

She held still, eyes on his back, so eventually he spoke out again, lowering his head to rub at his eyelids, as he often did when he was tired or tense. "He's not all-powerful and he's not infallible. He won't know if you do as I taught you, and what he doesn't know he can't take from you and he can't _make_ you tell him."

She remained silent and he'd finally turned to look at her, "He only knows what you tell him, Mara. Whatever he learns it's from _you_."

She glanced away again, apprehensive, aware from his clipped tone that he was the same despite his veneer of calm, though she didn't know whether it was because he was about to lie to the Emperor or because he was relying on her to do the same.

"We can't… meet in the Palace." He'd said at last, bringing her eyes back to him.

"You have rooms without surveillance. In your…"

"It's too risky." He shook his head decisively, "There are too many eyes and too many systems- you know that."

She glanced down, biting at her lip and he'd sighed, stepping forward to lift her chin, "You can do this, Red." He assured, mismatched eyes almost smiling, providing her the reason and the conviction to try.

She reached up to take his face in her hands and draw him down into a heartfelt kiss and when he finally stepped back she sighed and moved with him, head to his chest.

"It'll be a week, two at the most." He assured, though they both knew the lie.

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In the event, when they returned she'd found it all too easy to stay away for the first few nights, guilt still gnawing at her, but with each day that passed it was becoming a little harder.

Several times now she'd tried to broach the subject with Luke, setting out to embrace him when she knew they were alone in an unobserved room, but always he'd found some way to avoid or prevent her, gently but firmly, in command of his emotions in a way that she no longer was- no longer wished to be, around him.

Still, as she'd returned to her quarters the previous night, Luke having spent most of the afternoon and evening in his office taking a series of appointments to attend to military management and affairs of state which kept himself and Reece working well into the night - thus enabling him to avoid the complications inherent in being alone with her - Mara had left, wondering whether her words, spoken on that night, had been closer to the truth than she'd realized; _"You think we made a mistake."_

Or perhaps he was simply distracted; this could hardly be easy for him; bringing Mon Mothma here. He had known Mothma- had served as her bodyguard occasionally in years past, Mara knew. To bring the Rebel leader to justice now, however right he must believe it to be, clearly carried with it certain misgivings, even Mara could see that. Because when he turned to her now, she glimpsed something she so seldom saw in his eyes these days, something he had learned to bury so effectively beneath that reserved veneer of detached indifference at the cost of a volatile, quicksilver temperament;

Emotion- real, genuine, heartfelt emotion, a bewildered, conflicting mix of guilt and regret, so rare on his face anymore, leaving him pensive and preoccupied. A glimpse of Luke Skywalker beneath the Emperor's prized Jedi.

So she didn't hurry him this morning, aware that he too must know the time, conscious of his brittle, vulnerable air, protective of him in a way she never had been before.

When he could find no further reasons to procrastinate he took a deep, unsteady breath and set toward her. She flashed a short, encouraging smile at him, nodding once before she turned to walk from the room. When his footsteps failed she paused, realising that he was no longer behind her, stepping back into the muted, austere dressing room.

He stood immobile before the mirror, having caught a glimpse of himself as he made to leave.

"Luke?" When he didn't reply, didn't acknowledge her at all, she walked slowly toward him. He remained still, studying his reflection in the mirror, head to one side, expression an odd mix of detached curiosity and morbid fascination.

"Who is that?" he murmured at last, all attention on the reflection.

Mara glanced to the mirror, uncertain what to say, uneasy at his distant tone of voice and his precariously impassive air.

After a long time, he answered himself, eyes narrowing, "It's the Emperor's Jedi, isn't it?"

Luke studied the man in the mirror - really _looked_ for the first time in a long time - he never looked at his reflection anymore. He checked that his clothes were straight, that he looked presentable… though he never met those unfamiliar, mismatched eyes - didn't care to see.

But today he'd glanced up and they'd locked onto his and now he stood rooted to the spot, fascinated by the reflection of a stranger who stared back at him with such an obviously brittle veneer of outer calm masking… what?

He still looked a little like Luke Skywalker- same height, same lean, rangy build, wide at the shoulders, slim at the hip… but there the resemblance ended. His skin was pale, his features unnoticed beneath the shockingly deep, heavy scar which ran from his forehead down over his cheek, almost disappearing at the hollow there to re-emerge above is lips, cutting a deep slash through them both before trailing to nothing, a second scar just visible at his collar. Deep-rimmed hollows shadowed his eyes, making them seem shockingly blue, the right iris shot through close to the scar by a wide twist of darkest brown, almost black against pale blue. His hair fell before his eyes in places, unchecked, long enough to curl into disarray below his chinline, dark brown - hadn't Luke Skywalker's been lighter? Or was it just that Tatooine's intense sunlight had bleached it, and the pale man in the mirror seldom walked in the light of day anymore.

Luke frowned and the stranger before him did the same, stepping closer as Luke did, gaze turning to his clothes. Bespoke tailored and hand-stitched, restrained and refined, midnight blue. Black, handmade boots; impeccably-fitted trousers and jacket, a sliver of white where the starched stand collar hid a severe, dark red scar to the side of his neck.

They probably cost more than Luke Skywalker had expected to earn in a year. The man in the mirror didn't even know; didn't care. They simply arrived and he wore them until he bored of them and expressed a need for more, which arrived in due course; from where he had no idea. He didn't need currency, his face was enough- whatever he wanted was instantly made available without question.

But he wanted nothing at all - and the one thing he needed no amount of currency could buy.

He stepped forward again, fascinated, close enough now to reach out to the shadow-man in the mirror, fingertips touching; dark clothes, dark hair, dark sense hanging like a cloak about him. Dark motives and intent.

"The Emperor's Wolf- isn't that what they call him?" he murmured at last.

Where was Luke Skywalker? Long gone, he knew that - swallowed up by the shadows and the Darkness. Luke Skywalker would never have allowed what the man in the mirror was intending - would have been appalled… or did the ends justify the means?

The man in the mirror believed so- because no matter what else he felt, he was clearly going to go through with this, Luke could see it in his eyes… but then, the man in the mirror was a stranger too, no more real to Luke than the nightmares which clawed through his dreams and just as easy to disregard.

Which left him… where?

He stared mutely as memories came to mind- of the cell beneath the Palace where this dark-dressed man had come into being, the only protection left against relentless pain and provocation, every reserve torn down, every option burned away. Remembered his Master's biting, goading words… "_What do you see in the darkness, when your demons come?"_

What did he see? Palpatine thought that it was he who invaded and inspired Luke's visions and nightmares alike.

But Palpatine wasn't Luke's demon… he only created it.

Mara's reflection reached tentatively out in the mirror, hand to his shoulder, "Luke?"

Who was she speaking to? Didn't she realise?

He glanced to her, suddenly intensely curious, "What do you see?"

She frowned at his reflection, squeezing his arm in reassurance, "I see you."

He turned away again, back to the shadow in the mirror.

"What do you see?" she whispered at last, and he could hear her uncertainty, sense her unease.

He faltered, lost within the shadows and the Darkness, reaching out, turning to the woman who now held him anchored, though he knew the fundamental danger inherent in this weakness, _knew_ he could not trust her…

_Knew_ that somehow, some day, even she would betray him. As everyone he had ever trusted had.

And he wondered what the shadow-man in the mirror would do when she did…

"_What do you see in the darkness when your demons come?" _Palpatine's words whispered again.

Luke looked again to the man in the mirror, dressed in darkness… "I see you." he murmured quietly, knowing it absolutely.

Aware of her gaze on him, of her curiosity and her concern, he brought his eyes to her, "I see you." he said again out loud, arranging an empty smile about his features which pulled at deep scars.

.

.

.

That evening Luke stood quiet and brooding at the back of the huge, sumptuous State Ballroom, isolated and apart from the revelry around him, every iota of body-language demonstrating his terse, volatile temper, no-one daring to come near.

Palpatine sat on the dais at the head of the cavernous, grotesquely opulent hall, a rare 'public' appearance among the Royal Houses and diplomatic and planetary representatives who had attended the day's event, illustrating just how pleased he was with his accomplishments.

The gathering this evening was little more than a thinly-disguised celebration as far as Luke was concerned, and he had no stomach for it.

His 'Honour Compliment' of twelve Royal Guard had arrived at midday to accompany him to the wide private terrace where the act would take place, representatives from all the major Royal Houses, planetary systems and Trade Guilds in attendance, a wild mix of contradictory emotions whipped up into an unblockable frenzy by the anticipation, making him flinch at the intensity within the Force as he stepped out onto to terrace, security off the scale, conspicuously visible everywhere.

And then he was applauded. _Applauded_, the shouts and cheers from the gathered crowd making his stomach turn in disgust.

Even Palpatine stood, grinning provocatively, hands coming slowly together to maintain the applause as Luke walked deliberately forward, ignoring the assemblage, jaw clenched, eyes locked on his Master's. He reached the dais and stepped down onto one knee, Palpatine lifting his open hands, keeping the applause thundering about Luke for an eternity as he was forced to remain kneeling, the Emperor making a great act of being unable to order him to rise for the noise.

And so he'd closed his thoughts and his awareness; had shut off, as he'd learned to do here, face neutral, eyes glazed. Had let it all take place around him, somehow dismissed from it, as if viewing it through a pane of glass, in the same way that he viewed all life outside the Palace now; a distant haze of an old dream too far away to touch him anymore... She was dressed in gray when they brought her out, and he looked to the ground, jaw tightening. on the pale terrazzo of the wide terrace, he saw a scarlet drop appear to the side of his boot... then another. Realizing, he looked down to the clenched fist of left hand opening his fingers with difficulty, so tightly had they been clasped; he'd cut four perfect slices into the palm of his hand with his nails.

He was still staring at his hand when the shots cracked through the air, making him jerk just slightly. He didn't look. He owed her that much.

.

For Palpatine, watching his feral Jedi as he brooded in the farthest corner of the massive Ballroom with no attempt to even try to cover his disgust, the day had gone from strength to strength. Now he watched his Jedi with self-congratulating amusement, as the boy created a small island for himself in the crowds, everyone subconsciously diverting around him like a shoal of fish about a shark, no-one getting too close. Occasionally the odd Moff would consider approaching to curry favour, but at the last minute would kose his nerve and veer awkwardly away, followed every step of his retreat by those wonderful ice-blue eyes

It had been, from beginning to end, a wonderful day. Mothma's demise had finally put to rest two decades of irritation. Her precious Rebellion had never been a real threat fo course; without a Jedi to withstand the Sith they challenged, the Rebellion could never be any more than a minor nuisance, an inconvenience which, between brief bouts of anarchy, Palpatine manipulated to his own ends - except briefly. For a short time, they had held among them someone who had been capable of turning them into a real threat. Briefly, when his first Death Star had been destroyed, he had heard them roar. Then in their blind, reckless stupidity they had rejected that which could make them a power to be reckoned with - delivered him into the open arms of their enemy, no less.

They still had a Force-sensititve, Palpatine knew, and he would have to deal with her sooner or later. But she was untrained and of no immediate threat. Better to focus his efforts on that which he had alrealdy invested so much in creating. That which he derived so much pleasure from persuading and provoking.

Today had been the cruellest taunt Palpatine had engineered in a long time and he'd revelled in it, in the biting discomfort that his Jedi felt before it, the boy's determination not to allow his disquiet to show before his Master conflicting with his obvious burning desire to turn and simply walk away from this painstakingly-arranged circus.

It was, Palpatine reflected, the most wonderful irony- that the boy had argued for this, had _demanded_ that he be given the satisfaction of hunting Mothma down for her attack on him but now, having to face the result of his accomplishments, was so profoundly, intensely uncomfortable. It provided the crowning glory to a perfect day. A flawless plan from beginning to end, the results surpassing his wildest expectations. From the day he had acknowledged Skywalker as Heir Apparent events had unfolded with unerring aim, requiring only the smallest nudges to guide them, channelling the boy closer and closer to this point of no return.

Skywalker had cut his last ties to the Rebellion- willingly; decisively, with full awareness of what he was doing. And he'd accepted his role here, by Palpatine's side. That was obvious in many subtle ways, but Mara had confirmed it with her own considered opinion of his actions over the last month, on her arrival at Palpatine's private quarters to deliver her report the evening that the Peerless had made orbit.

Though her opinion, if not her loyalty, would soon cease to be quite so reliable. Objectivity required impartiality, and he had long sensed her detachment wavering. Nothing specific, but then that in itself was relevant - when last she'd been here, the focus of her fascination had been quite clear; now those feelings seemed muted, completely buried. He didn't doubt her loyalty; he'd held her long enough to ensure that, and he had no desire to question too closely her sudden change- it was after all what he had always intended; for her to become close.

Close enough to hold Skywalker here.

Because Mara would never leave, her allegiance guaranteed, which meant that if she could hold him, neither would Skywalker. And even if she couldn't, she could still be used as leverage.

Hadn't he warned the boy often enough; if you have a weakness, others will use it against you.

His Jedi had not so much removed his major weakness, formerly the Rebellion, as simply exchanged it for another. Which was just as well, since despite his outward confidence, Palpatine knew that if he didn't have these levers, he would find the boy far more difficult to control.

He had already dealt with his connection to his father; broken it beyond repair. There was _no_ association allowed between his two Sith; that would be intolerable- and far, far too dangerous. Divide and conquer - Vader had the ambition and his son the power. Of the two, Palpatine knew that Skywalker was the most threat; Vader had been in his service for many years and despite his ambitions, he knew that he hadn't the power to stand against Palpatine alone and survive. It had long since been taken from him.

His son, on the other hand, had the power to be a real threat, though he had chosen not to utilise it; he had no desire to rule an Empire which on some level he still despised, and as long as he held that view, he remained controllable. Palpatine had no doubt that this would change in the future, but as long as he could read the boy accurately and therefore head off any insurrection, then he still remained by far the most appealing of the two - in every way.

He tolerated a great deal from Skywalker though he was never quite sure why. It had become a fascination bordering on obsession, his need to control the boy. That first burst of accomplishment when he had broken him, had taught him the futility of resistance and finally pulled that latent power to the fore in a burst of aggrieved fury, had been… Palpatine sighed now at the memory; it still had the power to move him, distant as it was.

But such raw expression had given way now to a far subtler game achieved in near-imperceptible increments, each meaningless when viewed in isolation but slowly, over time, accruing and taking their toll - though he doubted the boy saw it as such.

His action and inaction today was proof of that, as was his willingness to use Jade, though Palpatine still had faith in her ability to creep under Skywalker's defences. He'd taken care to surround the boy with those whom he thought might appeal; attachments were such wonderfully invisible constraints- they required so little pressure to exploit. And he'd yet to fully cure his fallen Jedi of his other weakness; the obstinate, wilful tendency to fight every dispute, even to the extent of fighting on behalf of others- exactly as he had once done with his precious Rebellion.

One should choose one's battles with care - how many times had he told the boy that? Step back and examine the greater picture, ask oneself if this fight is really so important to one's own goals and not simply a challenge on principle. There were times when the ability to step back, to control one's emotions, was the very key to success even for a Sith. How could one dominate one's opponents if one was not in control of oneself?

What was so wonderful was the fact that Palpatine had _told_ the boy all of this—to master these weaknesses and to choose what was important, because only then would he fight with his whole heart and soul. Yet still he fought- even when he _knew_ he had no hope of winning.  
That was why he foundered; that was why Palpatine could make him stumble again and again.

He considered all of this now as he watched is Jedi where he had retreated to the far end of the cavernous, opulent room, as far from his Master as he could be without actually leaving. But he was hardly difficult to locate, despite his distance; his presence sung out through the Force, as powerful as ever. Muted though… by choice; Palpatine narrowed ochre-yellow eyes as he watched his Jedi, considering… yes, muted. Very little emotion ever leaked through those carefully-constructed shields anymore. One was left to wonder what else was cloaked…

The boy turned and Palpatine knew he was looking to his Master, aware of being under scrutiny, meeting Palpatine's gaze with equal intensity, nothing lost despite the distance and the crowds between them.

Palpatine leaned back, settling on his throne, arranging a smug, self-satisfied expression about his face, bloodless lips curling in the slightest of smiles, inviting the boy forward. He remained still for long seconds, clearly considering then, to Palpatine's surprise, set forward, the crowds instinctively parting as he strode through them.

Would he force an argument here, now? Surely he knew Palpatine couldn't allow that. After such a public display of accord between the two over the last several months, enough to assure even the most doubtful that there was no discord between them, a heated dispute now was unthinkable. It would negate all of that carefully-constructed unity, especially before this wide-ranging, unselect audience.

The boy knew all of this - he _knew_ it - knew that a scene now would command the harshest punishment. Not here, but later, when there were no eyes to see. But knowing that, did he now think he would have nothing to lose, no reason to hold back-

He was halfway across the hall now, eyes dark and stormy, jaw locked, muscles taught as he stalked meaningfully forward, wrist brushing subtly against the lightsaber at his hip. Palpatine felt his own heartbeat begin to rise, body tightening as he sat straighter in the throne in preparation for the confrontation, aware that he must disperse it as quickly and quietly and decisively as possible-  
Three Moffs crossed before his Jedi, momentarily obscuring him-

And when they had moved, he was gone.

As quickly as that.

Palpatine glanced about the room, still aware of the boy's presence in the Force but unable to pin him down, his sense veiled and diffuse. Frowning, he drew further on the Force, glancing about the massive hall, awash with colour and movement…

_There! _

The tall double doors were open, the Red Guards at the top of the short, wide stairwell coming to smart attention as he passed through, and Palpatine briefly caught fragmented images of his fallen Jedi's dark form as he set down the long, winding, mirrored gallery which led from the State Ballroom, pacing from the light and the noise back into the dim shadows, like the wolf he had become.

The Sith Master smiled, relief relaxing him back into his seat, amused that at the last, his wolf had made his presence felt- and that without actually _doing_ anything. Yes, he had learned his craft; a conflict was fought as much in the head as with the hand- lightsaber skills were not the only thing he had learned to master whilst confined within the walls of the Palace.

He glanced about the hall again, reaching into the Force to summon Mara to the Dais.

She approached with her usual feline elegance, hips swaying gracefully in the svelte, fitted black vinesilk dress she wore, fiery auburn hair aglow in the low light. She'd always known how to dress provocatively; had used it to good effect many times on various targets, but she had no such assignment tonight, leaving him to ponder momentarily why she had dressed this way; it certainly wasn't for him.

She bowed respectfully, loose hair falling about her bare shoulders, "Master?"

She had, Palpatine realised, already been halfway to the doors when he had recalled her. "Go after him." he ordered simply, feeling no need to elaborate further, "I want to know what he does- stay close to him tonight."

Mara felt a pang of adrenaline-laced guilt at his words, but quashed it quickly, turning obediently to leave the Ballroom before he could question her further, pausing in the long, curving gallery set with a seemingly endless run of hand-cast mirrors, each two storeys tall, their size and handmade nature causing slight distortions, unique to each one, endlessly refracting the same disjointed images back and forth across the walls of the long gallery.

She stood expectantly before one, ignoring the twisted, grotesque image it represented, and it opened with the slightest 'click' onto a small guard room-come watching post. Stepping in as the mirror-door closed behind her, she contacted Security, waiting for them to track down Skywalker's location, which seemed to take an excessive amount of time given the level of security here tonight. She'd eventually ordered surveillance to check security images rather than try to locate him by the guard's recognition, knowing that if he didn't want to be _seen_ then he simply wouldn't be, and had set his recognition code into the ID Tracer in the small room when his location came up.

It was, surprisingly, in his apartments, Reece having logged his arrival there only moments ago.

Mara set off walking from the South to the West Tower, taking her time, giving Skywalker breathing space; time to cool down. She'd watched, breathless, the little game of nerves he'd played out against his Master, setting Mara's heart in her throat at the certain belief that he was about to make a challenge, knowing that Palpatine couldn't allow it, seeing her master actually tense in uncertainty as Luke approached, Mara setting forward too, hoping to dispel it before it erupted. Then he'd vanished, disappearing into the crowd like a cipher even though she was watching him, and Mara knew that had been his intent all along; simply to unnerve - a pointless risk for no other reason than his own short temper.

In view of this she didn't particularly want to have to follow him tonight; his mood had been foul all day and that final game of brinksmanship with Palpatine would hardly have dispelled it- and he would know that it would be their master who had sent her.

She reached his apartments to find the lights of the wide, galleried main hallway turned down, indicating that the household had retired for the night. Stepping past the ever-present guards at the door, she leaned into the small office just inside the hallway, Reece glancing up to her.

"I'd leave him alone tonight if I were you." He advised, expression serious.

"Palpatine sent me." She said simply, explanation enough for anything.

Reece nodded, glancing down the hallway. "Rather you than me, Commander." He said, "Don't bait him… and sit close to the door."

"Thanks." Mara muttered dryly, setting off down the wide, dark hallway and across the elaborate, glass-roofed central cupola to the private rooms he always retreated to when he wished to be left alone.

Surprisingly they were dark and empty, her light footfalls echoing beneath lofty, ornate ceilings. Backing out, she walked a slow circle through his private office and down the curving halls about the central rooms, then back into the terrazzo-tiled grandeur of the central cupola, aware that all she could do was start a slow sweep of the thirty or so imposing, sombre, seldom-used rooms in his extensive apartments.

She finally tracked him down in the grand, sweeping curve of the manila, silk-walled library, sat in the dark, his back to the door.

"Skywalker?" Mara whispered into the darkness, instantly reminded of her first visit here when Palpatine had converted him, of her shock at the changes his conversion and maltreatment had induced.

He didn't reply, but she catwalked forward around the curve of the echoing, coffered-ceiling room to see him slumped in a chair, a bottle of spirit on the table beside him, looking tired to his bones, eyes fixed unseeing on the vague, indistinct glow at the edges of the many data chips which lined the retrieval system on the far wall.

"You okay?" Considering his state, it was a fairly stupid question, so she wasn't surprised when he didn't bother to answer. Instead he reached out and poured a lethal measure of the spirit into his glass. White camphor; she could smell it as it hit the air, the glass stopper abandoned nearby.

He looked at the clear liquid for several seconds, the heavy glass tilted dangerously in his hand, then-

"Here's to late nights in Mos Espa." He stated obscurely, taking a swig from the glass.

Mara remained still, unsure what to do - she had never seen him drink before, ever. The fact that the bottle was already one third down when they were generally left untouched didn't bode well. Eventually she glanced around the dim room and went to get another glass, returning to pour herself a drink in silence. If she couldn't stop him, then she could at least limit the amount he could drink.

Taking her tumbler, she walked over to another chair before the tall bevelled-glass bookcases which held old-fashioned paper-page books and settled down, the cool, clinging folds of the smooth black silk settling about her.

He didn't turn to her but instead lifted his glass again, "Here's to Fixer… and Camie, and Deak and Windy. And Biggs Darklighter."

He paused expectantly, eyes hidden by the shadows of his unruly hair and Mara lifted her own glass in uneasy salute, having no idea what he was talking about. Then he drained his glass and set it down again, reaching out for the bottle. Mara took a sip of the neat spirit and it burned a path down her throat, sharp and bitter.

"We used to go out when the week was done and hit the races in Mos Espa or Mos Cata." Skywalker said absently, eyes fixed again on the far distance. "Swoop racing. Forty credits entry fee and if you got lucky, you'd make it to the finals and win two hundred. That was it. I saw guys break bones and lose limbs for two hundred credits. Saw a few scraped off the walls. That's all people came for- to watch the carnage. If I won, I'd split it with Fixer, who kept the swoops, and we'd all go into Mos Eisley and blow it. Drink ourselves stupid so that for just a few hours we'd forget the scuzzy, dead-end dirtball of a planet we were stuck on… I watched it bleed Uncle Owen dry a day at a time, trying to scratch a living from sand and dust. Watched it wear him down and make him old before his time and I _swore_ it wouldn't do the same to me."

He paused, lost in silent thought, before finally lifting his glass again, "Here's to Tatooine. I'd give everything I ever was to be standing there again."

He waited until Mara lifted her own glass to her lips, then drained his glass, slamming it back down on the table to refill it. "Here's to… those stupid, battered, dilapidated vaporators that never worked. Here's to Sandpeople- may they die in the desert. And to Jawa's and their wrecked, worn-out, second-rate 'droids…"

He paused at this, considering a long time before taking another gulp of the liquor. "And here's to crazy old men. And naïve kids stupid enough to listen to them. May they both disappear without a trace."

He turned to Mara as she took a sip of the neat spirit, her nose wrinkling at its raw potency.

"Here's to ends that justify their means." He toasted cryptically, and they both took another drink, Luke pausing to refill his tumbler again, Mara realising that he was going to drink himself unconscious, struggling to find something to say which would stop him; wondering if it would be better to just let him get on with it...

He turned to her, lifting his glass high-

"And here's to Palpatine. May the black-hearted Sith-Spawn die a hard death."

Mara jolted at the venom in his words. Though she knew that he had no great attachment to the Emperor, in the last year he'd remained by and large obedient and trustworthy, isolated insubordinations becoming fewer and father between, so that she'd genuinely thought he was settling, finding a place for himself here in Palpatine's exclusive and jealously envied entourage. But to say this, here - and with such fierce conviction - was tantamount to treason and it shook her to the core.

She was aware that his eyes were still on her, his glass held up expectantly… Finally, she blinked and lifted the glass to her mouth, touching the burning liquor to her closed lips.

"You didn't drink." He said coolly, his own glass still held high.

Mara almost- _almost_ drank from the glass, but her own stubborn streak cut in, "You know I can't drink to that."

"But you were prepared to fake it. To me." His sharp eyes burned into her now; he seemed to have gone from half-cut to chillingly lucid in the blink of an eye, and she found she had no answer to the searching words.

When she didn't reply he rose, draining his glass and abandoning it on the table to take the bottle instead, turning to walk from the room.

"You should be careful Mara; it's a hard thing to keep a foot in two camps. Take it from me, it's an impossible balancing act - all you can do is fall."


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

.

.

Mara woke with a start, still curled up in one of the hide chairs set to either side of the long console in the corridor outside Skywalker's private rooms, the insubstantial delicacy of her vinesilk dress leaving her cold in the morning chill.

The noise that had woken her was the morning staff bringing breakfast to the panelled dining room, the first of the three rooms which formed Luke's private sanctuary within the sprawling Perlemian Apartments. When the two men re-emerged, they glanced nervously to Mara then back into the room before hurrying off.

Frowning, she walked quickly to the door, glancing into the empty dining room, moving quickly through and into the withdrawing room, heading for the bedroom beyond. Something made her glance sideways out onto the balcony…

and pause, heart in her throat.

She swallowed once, then set off out onto the wide veranda, the city laid out before and beneath it in distant splendour. She didn't even see it- save to register on some distant level just how high up they really were.

"Skywalker…." Mara murmured uneasily, uncertain what else to say.

Luke sat cross-legged, calmly balanced on the wide stone handrail that edged the balcony's balustrade, his back to her as he gazed out over the city. He wore light, linen sleep-trousers but nothing else, the fine scars of old injuries criss-crossing his skin in the bright sunlight, his dressing gown abandoned on the floor nearby, the fine fabric fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. He remained silent, didn't react at all to her voice, and eventually Mara walked forward… but slowly, gingerly.

Reaching the balustrade, she stopped ten paces away from him, afraid to go any closer.

Now she could see that his eyes were closed, wrists resting lightly on his knees, feet tucked close to his body on the carved handrail _just_ wide enough to enable him to maintain equilibrium, hands hanging loose, the balancing-act seeming controlled and effortless. He said nothing, eyes still closed though she knew that he must have heard her.

"…Luke?" Mara asked at last, though he still didn't open his eyes. But he spoke.

"What if I was wrong?"

"About what?" Mara tried to pull him into conversation though she knew full well what he was thinking about.

He didn't turn; didn't answer.

"She would have tried again - and again." Mara said at last, "You did what you had to."

"That doesn't make me right." Luke said without turning. "Five years ago, seeing another Si… someone like me rising to power… I probably would have helped her."

Mara hesitated, trying to find a path through this, wondering what he would do if she simply lunged for him, aware that she could hear the beat on her own heart in her words as she spoke. "Perhaps… if it had been someone else, not you - maybe you would have been right to. Maybe then _she_ would have been right. But this is you, and you're different."

Luke frowned, Master Yoda's words ringing through his head one more time; _'No; no different. Only different in your mind.'_

He opened his eyes at last, gazing down at the drop before him; almost forty stories onto the hard, granite-set roof of the main Monolith.

"I should have closed my eyes." He said cryptically without looking at her.

Mara frowned, uncertain what he was saying; when should he have closed his eyes? At the execution yesterday? He'd seen so many before - why would…

"When the explosion went off." He said at last, "I should have just… closed my eyes."

For the first time he turned to her, mismatched eyes as intense-a blue as the morning sky, the long surgery scar which ran from his collar-bone down the centre of his chest still visible in the bright light. "But they would have died - everyone there. They would have all died. The shields would have failed." He looked away again, uncertain, "But I didn't _know_ that - not for sure. I could have closed my eyes. I could have just closed my eyes and let it happen."

"You and your _Fate_?" Mara made the word a curse.

He smiled just slightly; the slightest twitch to the corners of his mouth. "I don't believe in fate."

Mara frowned uncertain; after everything that he'd said, everything he'd done… the chances he'd taken…"Then…why?"

He shrugged away the question, glancing down again to the distant roof, "Don't you get those moments, Mara?" He murmured at last, voice unnaturally calm, "Don't you get those moments when just for an instant you're at the eye in the centre of the storm and everything is finally still… everything is finally calm; quiet for the first time in so long…"

He took a deep breath, his eyes closing again as if reliving that moment- that intensity of feeling, "And when you get them you'd do anything - anything at all - to hold on to them. Because you can see the storm all around you and you know it so well… and you'd do _anything at all_ to hold onto that moment of calm."

Mara took a slow step forward. He opened his eyes again, looking down to the Monolith far below, the dark granite easily swallowing up the early morning light, and Mara took another slow step forward as the brittle silence stretched to breaking point.

"…Luke…"

He moved just slightly and she froze in place again as he resettled his weight, still balanced over the sheer drop, the inference clear though he didn't look, didn't give any indication that he'd heard her speak his name at all.

"What if I'm wrong?" he asked again, quietly this time; little more than a murmur.

"Luke you're scaring me." Mara daren't move forward again; daren't move at all, frozen to the spot.

After long seconds he glanced to her as if realising what she had said and he grinned; laughed almost, the action pulling at the scar through is lips. "Mara Jade doesn't get scared."

"Except around you." She said honestly; "For you."

Those words seemed to drag him out of his reverie just a little. He frowned at her then he turned away again, refusing the concern; the closeness. Mara took another step forward, heart in her mouth…

He unfurled his legs to kick his heels casually against the outside of the balustrade, leaning out slightly over the precipice, stopping her cold. "It's not that far Mara; probably wouldn't kill me. Not me."

"I'd prefer not to take those odds." She said immediately and he smiled, eyes still on the drop.

"I've jumped further than that." he said, wry, self-depreciating amusement in his voice.

"I think the difference there is that you probably _wanted_ to land on your feet."

"Good point." Luke said, eyes still on the drop; daring himself; Mara could see it in his eyes.

He lifted his head just slightly to gaze out over the city and Mara took another infinitesimal step forward. When he still didn't move she edged a little closer… "Stop creeping up on me Mara. It makes me nervous."

"Makes _you_ nervous!" Mara half-shouted, "How d'you think I feel right now?!"

"Tired." He turned, impossibly blue eyes locking onto hers, "Very tired."

And she did- tired and woolly and desperate to lay down; to rest, even if just for a few seconds… she felt herself teeter just slightly, felt her knees and shoulders loosen as her muscles relaxed, felt as if she could just… drop; just slide down where she stood and…

"Son of a…" Mara shook her head against the impulse, broke eye-contact, shaking away his influence. The shadow of a frown crossed his face and he looked away again, leaving her breathless and furious.

"Don't _ever_ do that to me again!" she almost yelled, such was her anger, "Don't even _think_ that you…"

He turned, and those mismatched eyes held a very different look now, mercurial as ever, "Don't issue ultimatums to me, Mara. I didn't _ask_ you to come out here."

She arched her eyebrows, "Don't issue ultimatums? Fine, how's this for _not_ issuing ultimatums - jump. Go ahead and jump. I don't care! You spend half your life out on that ridge one way or another anyway, trying to decide whether you should jump or not. Well go ahead a…"

She lunged forward, heart in her mouth, as he opened his arms out… and fell-

Her outstretched hands wrapped about his right wrist and she braced, his entire bodyweight pulling her forward against the heavy stone balustrade as he fell, wrenching at her shoulders,knees bent, feet slipping, every muscle strained to maximum to hold onto him, only the height of the balustrade stopping her from toppling over with him.

She stared down at him, red hair blowing about her face in the high wind, "What the hell is _wrong_ with you!?"

Body still swinging just slightly, he glanced out about him over the distant sprawl of the city, a slow smile spreading across his face. Then looked up to her, his hand clasping about her wrist, bare feet scrabbling against the smooth stone for purchase as his left hand found a hold on the balustrade. She yanked him up and he found footing on the outside of the carved stone railings, releasing her arm and standing upright still on its outer side, grinning.

"I should push you off this damn thing!" Mara shouted, relieved and terrified all at once, the buzz of adrenaline still pumping, making her heart pound.

He swung his legs over onto the inside of the balustrade, hopping down to solid ground of the balcony, hand to his right shoulder as he lifted his arm uneasily, his natural Rim-world accent winning out. "I think you put my arm out."

"_I put_…!" Mara stuttered to a stop, speechless.

"Yeah- it's my bad arm." The shoulder which had been so badly injured in the assassination attempt earlier that year still troubled him, though it wasn't common knowledge.

"What… you…" Mara finally pulled a stuttering sentence together, pointing at the drop. "What the hell was _that_!?

"Just testing." he shrugged casually, glancing behind him.

"What if I hadn't caught you!? What if I'd caught you but couldn't hold you?"

"Fate." He dismissed, still massaging his shoulder.

"Y…I…" Still livid, she stepped forward and raised her hands, shoving him bodily backwards for want of something better to do.

He staggered back a step, unconcerned, and she found her voice.

"You and your stupid, irresponsible… stupid…"

"You already said that." He said mildly.

"Well I think it deserves to be said twice!" She was almost shouting again, adrenaline turning fear to anger.

He glanced away as she heard Reece and Clem come rushing into the room behind her then pause at the balcony doors, seeing Luke stood safely on the balcony- probably the two servants had finally decided to tell them what they'd seen, Mara realised distantly.

Luke shook his head slightly and they backed away, leaving the room, but not without risking a curious glance at Mara, Luke probably appearing completely calm and rational to them. In another hour, neither of them having _seen_ him at the balcony's edge, they'd have talked themselves into believing that the servants were wrong anyway. Another half-hour and one would mention to the other, _'Was it me, or did Jade seem to be swinging for him when we came in?'_

Fantastic; great.

Just another day in the Skywalker household.

.

.

.

"Han." As leia sat down opposite him, Han jolted upright from the messroom table, eyes wide, and Leia was greeted by the comical sight of a half-awake Solo with a perfect imprint of the woven metal tabletop on his forehead.

"What!?" he jerked up so quickly that he almost overturned the mug of kia in his hand, its contents sloshing over the side and onto the table, where it immediately fell through the open metal weave, making him twitch back in his chair and twist to the side to avoid it wetting his blue flightsuit, the shoulders of which were shrugged off and tied about his waist.

Leia waited without a word until he settled back down, glancing sheepishly about him. He rubbed his eyes, though it seemed to do little to dispel his muzzyness. Six hour's sleep and he was out again in thirty minutes; great.

Leia set her head to one side, "You are _sooo_ attractive right now."

"Hey, I'm not a morning person." Han defended, taking a graincake from her plate.

"It's eleven." Leia said pointedly.

"Believe me doll, that's early for me." He took a bite from the graincake before replacing the rest on her plate, pulling a disgusted face. "What the hell is that?"

"Good for you."

"Well there's sure as hell no other reason for eating it."

"Maybe if you ate a little more stuff like this you wouldn't feel like that right now." Leia teased gamely.

"Well maybe if you…." he trailed off, his tired brain having no end to the gibe his mouth had already begun, "Ah, hell, you know the routine. It's early- give me a break."

"I can't believe they're actually going to give you a fighter to fly in less than an hour." Leia's big brown eyes were an even mix of worry, doubt and dry humour.

Han rubbed his hand down his stubble-rough face, trying to come round a bit. "Yeah I know- suckers."

She glanced down, pulling a strip off her graincake, "What time are you back?"

"Uh, five hours, then five hours." He replied, the shift being broken in two, "Two sets of freighter escort. You?"

"Meetings." she dismissed, then glanced back at him with studied nonchalance. "I was speaking to Tag this morning- she… told me in confidence that she'd had Madine in her office again."

Han groaned, running his fingers through shower-wet hair, "Doesn't the guy have anything better to do? He should have my job."

Madine had approached Tag Massa, the Intel Chief, several times since the whole Bothawuii fiasco, voicing his suspicions that Han may be the spy onboard Home-One who had eluded them for so long. He was after all the only one who inexplicably escaped the disaster onboard the Fury - not only without a scratch but in the freighter that the Empire had empounded four years earlier.

Apparently that was damning evidence as far as Madine was concerned, and to make matters worse, hadn't Solo also _magically_ managed to escape from the Imperial Palace four years ago? Just days before the Rebel cell on Coruscant - the one which had coincidentally helped him escape - was closed down by the Empire? He'd appeared out of no-where at Yavin - _with Skywalker_- and flown against the Death Star, one of only a handful of ships to return- another also _coincidentally_ being the Imperial spy '_Skywalker'_.

Yes, the station had been destroyed, but it was now widely accepted that it must have held some incorrectable flaw- in fact it had even been suggested that it had never truly been the reusable weapon it claimed, the whole incident created as an opportunity to flush out the far-ranging nest of Rebel spy networks who all worked to smuggle out the plans, as well as an opportunity to remove Alderaan as the supposed instigator and harbourer of the network, and long a thorn in the Emperor's side for its independent voice. It had also securely placed Skywalker in the Alliance stronghold at a senior level, setting him up as some kind of hero and placing him beyond suspicion for so long.

That was an awful lot of coincidences, and when Han didn't have explanations for his proximity to them all, people had started to listen to Madine.

Fortunately, just as many dismissed them as paranoia, and since Massa was one of the latter, it had melted away to a minor annoyance for Han; an ongoing friction between the two men.

"Well, your good friend has been singing you praises again." Leia said dryly of Madine, making Han roll his eyes, "He's asking for a meeting of the Chiefs of Staff and he's been down in Tag's office this morning suggesting that maybe someone else should attend as the Active Flight Commander."

"Great." Han said, "Tell him I'll gladly stay away from his little party."

Leia pulled a face, "I would, but I think he's up to something, and I could really do with you there. Tag also told me in confidence that he hinted that I'd been kept out of the loop with the DEMP's because of you - that's why they knew about the venue change."

Han lifted his head, exasperated, "I didn't know where the venue change actually was 'till an hour before!"

She shrugged, "He thinks I told you."

Han pursed his lips, annoyed; it was one thing to have Madine on his back; he could handle it and really didn't give a damn what the man thought about him at the end of the day. But it was something else to have him go after Leia; try to involve her in all this somehow.

"I've met nicer Hutts than that guy." He intoned darkly, making Leia smile as she reached out to squeeze his arm.

"Well, Tag brushed it off; she told him in no uncertain terms that if you were the spy they wouldn't exactly be drawing everyone's attention to the fact, now would they?"

"What'd he say to that?"

Leia shrugged, suddenly bone tired, "You know Madine." she said in dismissal.

"Yeah, I know Madine." Han stated dryly, "If it was up to the General, _knowing_ Luke would be a capital offence. "You can take the guy outta' the Empire but you can't take the Empire outta' the guy."

Despite everything, in some strange sort of way, Leia knew Han still wanted to trust Luke. He didn't speak about it with her anymore - not like he had when it all first came out - but deep down, he still _wanted_ to believe. But then it was hard for Han; he hadn't been here when the truth came out, when they found the evidence - solid evidence - that Luke was a spy. He hadn't been here when people had to make those connections and deal with the mounting facts, so he'd never laid it to rest as Leia had. And he didn't have Leia's responsibility; in her position she couldn't _afford_ to trust, even had she wanted to. She had to look at the bigger picture, take the safer route.

Han had always adamantly claimed that in all the time he'd been held captive on Coruscant nobody ever asked him anything. Why keep him there if not for information, he'd reasoned. He hadn't exactly helped his cause by arguing with Madine on several occasions that if Luke was a double-agent then he would surely have made the effort to drag something from Han in that time, especially if he had no intention of returning to the Alliance under his pseudonym.

But then he _had_ gotten information from Han. He'd simply managed to manipulate Han into volunteering it rather than drag it from him. Maybe it amused him… one last game for old time's sake. The end result was the same any way you looked at it; he'd managed to close down the last reliable base they'd had on Coruscant. _That_ was what Madine saw.

Three in the Core Systems, if you counted the two which had been closed down within hours of Leia and Chewie passing through on their own 'escape'.

And he'd consistently used Han to instil suspicion in the Alliance ever since. Used him to hide the fact that the Empire had a spy here- to confuse and distract. Everyone kept looking to Han because Luke always made him the scapegoat… and Han _still_ defended him!

No, no matter what Han thought, they'd all been led a flawless dance by whoever the hell he was- because he wasn't Luke Skywalker; or if he was, he wasn't the Luke Skywalker he'd claimed to be when he was here.

The turning point, at which Han had finally stopped speaking out, hadn't so much been the debacle at Bothawuii as the end result. In fact, for a brief time in those first few days when Han alone had had escaped the Fury, when she had thanked every lucky star she'd ever wished on that he was back and safe, when Han had told her that it was Luke who'd caught him, Luke who'd let him free… for just a few days, she'd begun to wonder again; begun to hope.

And then the news had gone out over the HoloNet and Leia had chided herself for letting Skywalker get to her one more time. For _wanting_ to hope.

Because now there was nothing left to argue, even for Han. Mon Mothma was dead, Luke's complicity in the action undeniable. It had been, from beginning to end, his campaign. He had reeled her in using knowledge he'd clearly gained whilst he was with the Alliance, had used typically covert, calculating methods to capture her then taken her to Coruscant to give her to his Emperor like a gift. Had watched her dragged through some sham of a trial - barely even that at a paltry five days long - and had, sources said, attended her execution.

Mon was dead because of Luke. No-one else; no room for misinterpretation. No blurring of allegiance or commitment.

Even Han had no answer to that; even he had fallen to uneasy silence.

The crackling ship's comm sounded a tone, marking the shift change, and Han rose, grabbing his cup

"I gotta go fill this again or I'll never stay awake for the briefing, let alone the flight." he said apologetically, pushing his chair back. "I'll be at your meeting- I'll make it a point."

Leia smiled at his promise, knowing he wouldn't let her down. He winked, turning about and disappearing into the crowd as all the blue-suited pilots in the mess hall slowly made their way to the doors in various states of exhaustion.

She swore sometimes this whole outfit was held together by caffeine and duct tape.

Leia watched him go as the mess emptied to near-silence, then sighed and stood herself. She hadn't told him the rest; hadn't told him that Madine had specifically asked that if Han attended the meeting it was to be entered into his Intel file.

Didn't tell him that she privately wondered if Skywalker was doing this on purpose It had after all instigated a major split in the Alliance's hierarchy; made them seem unstable, both amongst themselves and to the galaxy at large. Leia had been voted in as the new Commander in Chief of the Alliance just days after Mon's execution, and one of the first things she had to sign was a veto allowing a file to be opened by Alliance Intelligence on Han.

Tag Massa had been her usual gracious self, assuring Leia that this was just routine; standard operating procedure stated that she had to open the file if she had more than three requests to do so from officers on active duty, and although she would open one, she saw no reason to waste her staff's time in pursuing it.

The file would be opened, nothing more.

But it got out- these things always did; not into the general populace but certainly into the various Intelligence communities who plied their trade in the shady ground between the Empire and the Alliance. There it was well known that the leader of the Alliance was in direct contention with one of her own senior officers over the fact that she was protecting a possible spy. Hardly the bright new prospect she'd been hoping to bring to her role.

Tag had reassured Leia, as usual, that these things blew over in time, and pointed out that despite his military genius Madine was in many ways a straightforward man who dealt with this kind of problem in a straightforward way, believing that sometimes, in the absence of any other evidence, one must act in support of what _appears_ to exist.

What had been _made _to appear, Leia knew- and she knew who by. This wasn't the kind of convoluted game Vader played; it was closer to Palpatine's form, but that didn't feel right either. No- she knew exactly who was playing these games, setting these traps, muddying the water.

Tag had maintained, when Skywalker first began rounding up the Bothans, that as far as The Heir was concerned, his relationship with the Alliance had long been a case of 'You don't bother me and I won't bother you'. Not surprisingly, with the assassination attempt he believed they'd crossed the line. As far as he was concerned, the Alliance had made a declaration of war and now it was open season.

And Leia couldn't help but think - remember Tag's warning from long ago;

"_If they do decide to make an assassination attempt, then I will do my level best to make sure it's flawlessly executed and hope with all my heart that it will be successful- because Force help us all if it's not."_


	20. Chapter 20

Darth Vader stood in silence in his ready-room onboard the Executor, watching the small, flat image without moving, remaining outwardly impassive at the recording which zoomed in from a distant wide-shot to a shaky, indistinct close-up of the West Tower of the Imperial Palace, his son sat cross-legged as if in meditation on the high balustrade outside of his apartments there, Mara Jade stood close by- and what was she still doing there at all? Hadn't he warned his son of the dangers inherrent in allowing such closeness - why did the boy never listen. Would it be up to Vader to remove her against his son's wishes?

From this distance they seemed at ease, lost in conversation, only their body-language betraying the serious nature of the moment. Vader again cursed the limited nature of this kind of distance- image, taken from high-orbit above Coruscant, the airspace over and about the PAlace restricted. Set on the ecumenopolis of Coruscant, the Imperial Palace was blanketed with many kinds of shields, both to secure against physical attack and to guard against technological warfare of any kind- including spying. Other buildings were hardly close, the Palace enjoying the ultimate luxury on Coruscant, affordable only by the Emperor; space, long tracts of open walkways and tiered terraces setting it apart from its neighbouring buildings, both to emphasise its relevance and to provide a buffer which was easy to patrol and defend.

Palpatine had fifteen Palaces on Coruscant, ranging from the restrained, seventeen-storey, three-hundred roomed Winter Retreat at the planet's frigid South Pole to the vast, sprawling might of the Imperial Palace at the Capital, a city within itself, the seat of government for the Empire and Palpatine's favoured residence.

And even this, in the greater scheme, was nothing; there were in all well over three hundred Palaces, spread out over his Empire on planets of significance, massive edifices conceived as absolute statements of supremacy and scope, visible symbols of the autocratic power they embodied, each filled with the very best that their system could offer, willingly or not, a monument to the Emperor's authority and importance. Most of them the ever-reclusive Emperor had never even visited; never intended to. What mattered to Palpatine was not that he needed or even wanted them; what mattered was that he _owned_ them; that he was seen to do so.

Vader himself owned five Palaces on four planets, all presented to him by the Emperor, though he'd not failed to notice that, among his gifts and favour, Palpatine had awarded Luke no residence of his own, preferring to keep the boy close, forcing him to return to the Palace and his Master's closely-controlled clique whenever he was ordered back to Coruscant.

Only three times had Palpatine moved his retinue whilst Luke had been En Courte; twice to the Winter Retreat on Coruscant and once to the immense Selo Complex on Caamas. But always he returned within the month, unable to stay away from the seat of his government and his power for any length of time. He believed himself impregnable there and had gone to great lengths to ensure this, though most of the measures were not visible from the outside of the massive Imperial Palace, designed to be viewed as a monument to his confidence rather than his obsessive paranoia.

One such hidden measure was a series of disruptive shields which ensured that no technology-based system would penetrate the Palace, so any kind of technological spying equipment or enhancement, including visual and auditory, was nullified. The only thing which couldn't be guarded against by the shield system was old-fashioned light-rays, so visual images could be picked up from a distance and, with the use of high-quality lenses, recorded.

A visual shield could of course have been implemented to rectify this, but by its very nature it couldn't be hidden and in the politics of public power-plays, image meant as much as intent. The populace needed to see the indestructible might and unassailable confidence of Imperial supremacy inherent in the monolithic Imperial Palace on Coruscant, designed to be the epicentre of power. It was the tallest structure on the densely populated city-planet, no other building allowed to be higher, built deliberately over the ruins of the old Jedi Temple. Court, the Government and the Military all reported to, were presided over and administered from this single location, a fact intended to clarify that all three came expressly under the control of one man - the man whose Palace this was; the Emperor.

And paranoid as he was, he wouldn't be scrutinized or familiarised despite his desire to remain always in the centre of his Galaxy. So now all that Vader could do was curse the quality of the small flat image taken from high orbit, aware that he couldn't ask Intel to clean up or extrapolate the recording for more information without risking a copy of it reaching the Emperor. He leaned forward unconsciously, as if it would make a difference…

In the next moment, the boy swung his legs free and stepped off the high balcony, Vader twitching in shock-  
Jade leapt forward to grab at his arm, so that he swung in a short arc, dropping slightly as she staggered forward into the barrier, using its mass to it stop her, clearly unprepared for the action.  
They remained like that for long seconds, Luke finally looking up to her before reaching out his other hand and climbing back onto the balcony, Jade pushing him back a step with both hands against his chest when he had.

"I felt it shouldn't go into the public domain." Colonel Hoken said diplomatically at last. He was a short, square, military man, not particularly given to inventive thinking, but Vader trusted him; he was loyal, both to Vader and of late, to his son too, the boy's military leaning gaining him ever more popularity in the fleet as his abilities also began to flourish.

He realized he was still staring at the officer, mind buzzing with the content of the recording. "There are no copies?"

"No, my Lord, not to my knowledge. The spy who was selling the images is still in custody on Bilbringi. Under interrogation he admitted that this was his first attempt to sell them."

"Bring him here. Quietly." Vader ordered; best to be sure.

Hoken bowed carefully, made a smart military turn and left to carry out his orders, leaving Vader to turn and replay the images, considering.

Hoken's undercover teams were always present on Bilbringi due to the Imperial shipyards there, but it had been pure chance that one of them had heard about a recording regarding The Heir and reported it to his superior, who had arranged to have the man arrested, then done the right thing in contacting Hoken to pass on the recording.

Its content was… disturbing; doubly so, when he watched it alone now. Firstly because he had no idea what his son had been doing, and secondly because Mara Jade clearly remained a part of his son's inner retinue. That she had caught him was neither here nor there- it was her mission to guard him, appointed by the Emperor to whom she was fanatically loyal.

The relevant point here was that his son had presumed she would do so. Because no matter what Luke believed, she was not to be trusted.

He reached out and took the small storage chip from the display unit, the image fritzing to static as he did so. Holding it momentarily in his gloved hand, he closed his fist, crushing it beyond repair.

.

.

.

Luke stood to tense attention in the silence of his quarters onboard the Peerless, gazing without seeing into the diffuse, chaotic glow of Lightspeed. He had finally been given leave to return to the Destroyer earlier that day - the forth time he'd requested it - after almost three weeks trapped among the stifling intrigues and relentless plotting of the Palace and his Master's precious Court. He'd left within hours of receiving permission, his own small entourage in tow, resenting the fact that he had one at all; that he was forced into such things by the life he now lived.

Onboard ship had been no better; everyone was frustrated at having been cooped up over Coruscant for so long, eager to be gone just as he was, the restless atmosphere palpable.

He'd gone straight to the bridge and set a course on impulse for the Peerless, the Dominant and the Zephyr to fly a wide loop which would take them along the Hydian Way to Arkania and then into open space along the edge of The Colonies, taking in every planet and system which intercepted it; past the Perlemian Trade Route, the Corellian Run, crossing the opposite side of the Hydian Way at Nubia, then past the Corellian Trade Spine and finally Shapani, joining the Rimma Trade Route to travel back into the Core Systems. It was a huge tour of duty which even if uninterrupted, which was very unlikely, would take weeks- even months- to complete.

It wasn't until the intended route had been transmitted back to Coruscant and returned with the Emperor's approval, along with a short, cryptic message from his Master to the fact that his 'Wolf' may pace where it pleased, that Luke had withdrawn to his ready-room to overlay the course onto star-charts in the holo-display there and seen just exactly what he'd done. All that had been in his head in the moment that he'd made the choice of schedule was to get away from Coruscant; now that a line was drawn along his arbitrary route, he sat back on his chair and stared for a long time, aware of what he'd done.

The route he'd named almost perfectly described the outermost extent of his fleet's jurisdiction.

The Emperor's precious 'Wolf', like a caged animal, was pacing up and down just inside its bars.

So now he stood quietly, gazing out into the void, head tilted, staring at nothing. The duty shift had come and gone and he'd remained at his desk in his ready-room, reading dispatches, refining the projected tour of duty after holding conferences with Chiefs of Staff, assigning and reassigning missions to divisions and units to disperse and manage projected dissent hotspots, organising fleet ops and manoeuvres for those not involved; attending to the minutia of Fleet logistics.

Finally, when he could work no more, eyes blurred and mind numb, he'd returned here to his quarters and stood in silence in the darkened room, gazing into the maelstrom, contemplating...

Mara was making her way here, knowing that he had returned. He knew that absolutely; could sense her unique signature in the Force as she employed her ability, no matter how subconsciously, to ensure that she remained undetected.

Leaving him to consider - what should he do when she arrived?

The sensible thing would so clearly be to turn her away.

He could so easily provide the perfect excuse; he had been away from the Peerless for weeks and therefore couldn't guarantee that all surveillance measures so carefully hidden by Palpatine's agents in his absence had been removed yet. She'd know of course that it would be a lie - that he would have removed or destroyed them within minutes of his arrival here - but it would be a difficult case to argue since she had no proof and anyway, the message would be clear.

So he could stop this now; just let it dwindle to nothing and have them return to the way they were… that would be the _sensible_ thing.

He'd achieved everything he needed from this particular game- everything he intended. Hadn't he claimed to himself that he'd wanted a secret, a method to control her; well now he had one. She'd lost her impartiality, allowed herself to become involved- and then she'd withheld the fact. Lied about it to the Emperor- to his _face_.

He had his control. Because if she ever found out something he needed to keep from his Master then all he need do was threaten to reveal this. Yes he'd be damning himself as well, but in a situation where he was in the line of fire either way, she would surely realise that he may well have nothing to lose - and she may well have everything.

And like every game, it was as much the bluff you made as the cards you held.

Which was why the right thing to do now would be to walk away- to underline that it had all been just that; a game. That he wouldn't hesitate to play this card if she forced him.

If he didn't back off now he was weakening that position.

So why was he wavering?

He understood now what his father had tried to warn, the vulnerabilities inherent in allowing another this close. Had this been what had brought his father down- had this been his weakness?

Because Luke knew it would be his- if he opened the door.

If he allowed this consideration to cut across his objectives.

But something in him craved this; this closeness. Even though he knew it was a vulnerability and he swore he'd never again hold one before his Master, and even though he knew it was a risk because Mara 's loyalties would _always_ lie with the Emperor and even though, and even though, and even though….

A thousand and one reasons not to, and only one reason to open that door…

He heard the gentle drum of her fingers on the heavy shipboard door and held still for one moment longer-

_Stop this now. Don't have this vulnerability  
__Don't take this chance  
__Don't be your father_

Luke shook his head, remembering Vader's words again, spoken with such conviction; "_We are solitary creatures by necessity…"_

"I am not you." He whispered into the darkness…

And with one final, tense sigh to expel his doubts, he stepped forward and opened the door…

She entered the dark room in a rush of motion, senses a flurry of excitement and anticipation.

"I thought you weren't going to let me in." she whispered jokingly, arms about him, breath to his neck- as if not a moment had gone by since they were last here. Had that been a conscious decision on her part?

Luke closed his eyes, wishing already that he hadn't, feeling the softness of her glowing red hair against his skin. For an instant he allowed himself to fall back into the depth of emotions which radiated from her, a momentary indulgence, undeniable, overwhelming, intensely impetuous and wildly irresponsible-

But the truth was far more complex, and whether she chose to admit it or not, she had to know that on some level.

Because he did. He knew the dangers. He knew how this could so easily end. Knew the knife-edge he lived on.

Knew absolutely that she would betray him someday.

She couldn't be trusted. She _couldn't_ be trusted. But then neither could he- didn't she know that?

If he cared for her at all he should walk away. If she cared for him she should have already done the same…

She took his face in her hands and stood on tip-toe, reaching up to kiss him as her fingers slid back into his hair, breath to his lips-

And all of his doubts and his reservations, his father's warning and his own piercing, perfect knowledge of the future, melted away like shadows in darkness…

.

.

.

Madine sat nervously upright as the Chiefs of Staff settled about the large circular table in the War Room onboard the Rebel Flagship Home-One, glancing back at the huge canvas which hung from the far wall, a massive, brooding rendition of a military struggle fought in the dark of night. '_Night Battle'_ it was called, by Inego.

It was the original piece; a priceless work of art. For some reason, the smuggler Solo had it in his possession and had given it over to be re-hung here- 'on loan', he'd gone to great lengths to clarify. How he had come by it he'd neglected to say - but then since he was a smuggler Madine hadn't bothered to push too hard; sometimes the obvious answer was the right one.

Solo took a long look at the canvas as he passed it, smiling at some private memory as he settled down beside Leia Organa, who had fallen surprisingly easily into the complexities of the position as Chief of Staff following Mon's loss. She glanced at him now, brown eyes wary. There was no amity between them but they had a good working relationship and she'd impressed him with her leadership and her grace under fire.

And she had that edge; Mon had always been a Diplomat and a Fighter; Leia was more a Fighter _then_ a Diplomat, which was a good thing in Madine's opinion; it may well make for a more aggressive future actions. At the moment though, she was still finding her feet and her responses were accordingly cautious.

Which was why he felt a pang of guilt that he had basically forced her into holding this meeting. But if he were to push Mon's last plan forward then time was running short, and purposely so. Firstly because he wanted to limit the amount of time that this information had to get out, and secondly because he needed them to move on this in a hurry- rush things through, not spend too long looking at the minutiae of the plan. That had all been considered long ago by himself and Mon. Now he needed to push it forward and to do that he may have to twist Leia's arm a little.

Which was why he'd requested this meeting of the Chiefs and held firm when she'd asked for details- in truth he didn't want her to dismiss his proposal or have a coherent argument against it before he'd had the option to put the plan on the table before a wider vote.

Everyone settled and fell to polite silence as Leia stood, the picture of calm, speaking for the benefit of the official register. "We'll convene this meeting at seventeen- thirty-two. Officers present are Admiral Ackbar, Admiral Stone, Intel Chief Massa, Commander Solo, General Madine and myself. The meeting has been convened at the request of General Madine, so with your permission Sirs, I'll hand the chair over to him."

It was a little curt, but then Leia Organa wasn't one to be trifled with. Madine stood, reflexively pulling his jacket straight, a leftover from his time in the Imperial Forces, when such things were paramount.

"Sirs… with the launch of the new Super Star Destroyer Invincible now imminent, I'd like to take this opportunity to bring some very important information to the table. Although you were unaware of it for security reasons, there has been a plan in the pipeline for some time now to use this unrivalled opportunity…"

Solo, who was sat directly opposite Madine, was beginning a slow roll of his eyes, settling down to rest his chin in his hand in a lazy slouch. Madine gave him a long, unimpressed stare and continued, losing his point only momentarily; "unrivalled… opportunity… to deliver a major blow to the Empire; one from which they could not recover."

He glanced about the table into a sea of mildly expectant faces; all that was about to change.

"As you are now aware that the ill-fated Bothawuii mission was also to hand over new technology from the Bothans to ourselves; the Empire's DEMP generators. Their intended use was to have been against all Destroyers in Coruscant's orbit when the S.S.D. Invincible was launched from there on its inaugural flight. With the loss of the Dynamic EMP's that plan became unfeasible. However, the Destroyer's launch is still going ahead and the Emperor will still be present on the bridge of the Invincible for its inaugural flight. The opportunity for which we intended the DEMP's is still there Sirs, and I suggest we use it."

"You have a couple of DEMP's in your back pocket?" Solo drawled, and Madine skewered him with a look.

He hadn't wanted him here at all; had argued strenuously against it behind the scenes, but Massa, the Intel Chief, had insisted that there was nothing to substantiate Madine's suspicions that Solo was the Imperial spy hidden among them, stating that his escape from both the Imperial Palace on Coruscant and the mission onboard the Fury was not in itself sufficient proof, and a tad obvious considering that an infiltration specialist generally tried to keep a low profile.

Madine was still watching him… and so, he suspected, was Massa, despite her claims.

"No, we do not have the DEMP's anymore but it still doesn't negate our other advantages. It simply changes the details, not the overall plan. We still have the one thing which the Empire doesn't know about and it was that which was always going to buy us access to the Emperor."

Leia frowned, tiring of these guessing games, "Which is?"

Madine pulled himself up to his full height, smiling tightly. "We have the Command Overrides to the Invincible- the hardwired codes. Having our own DEMP generators would have done nothing more than bought us a way in by disabling other Imperial ships in the area. Once we were in we were going to utilise the Override Codes to bring the Invincible down into the atmosphere without trim- break it apart under stress and burn it up with the Emperor onboard- with everyone in the galaxy watching over the HoloNet. That was the ultimate plan. The plan which Mon Mothma and I worked towards- the plan she gave her life to make possible."

Leia frowned, "How long have you had these codes?"

"Mon Mothma was given the codes by Olin'yaa almost a month before the first attempt on The Heir. As everyone here is aware, Mon Mothma's plan had always been to take him down first, then the Emperor, rather than allow a chain of accession. Now another opportunity has come to make good on this intention and I think we should take it- in Mon's memory."

Oh, that was a low blow, Leia knew, whether he had intended it or not. Now if she declined, she wasn't just refusing him, but the memory of Mon Mothma. She looked to Han, who looked away uneasily; it was Tag who spoke out, sitting to focused attention.

"Let me clarify this- you have the Command Override Codes which are hardwired into the Invincible's systems?"

"Essentially, yes." Madine said.

"Essentially?" Tag pushed, wishing to be very sure.

"The codes aren't literally hardwired in, but they're one of the three back-doors into the system- they override all other commands. They're intended for use by the Emperor to ensure…"

"Thank-you, I know what a Command Code is." She stated tartly, obviously as annoyed as Leia was at being kept out of this loop. "And you're positive that these codes are still active, given that both Olin'yaa and Mon Mothma were in Imperial custody?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Leia's voice was dura-steel.

Madine almost looked to Han but caught himself in time, "You know we have continuing problems with information leaks. Mon Mothma had ordered that this information be kept strictly between myself and her until it was necessary to involve others. I now consider it necessary; I think we're still in a strong position to carry out Mon's intended threat."

Ackbar spoke up, long webbed fingers splayed, "Would the codes not have been nullified when the Empire discovered our access to their DEMP generators, General?"

"No Sir," Madine said, "The codes have nothing to do with the hardware. They don't even originate in the same dockyard and would have been integrated by a completely separate unit in isolation. This is something which even the Captain in charge of the ship would not have been given access to."

"So we can assume that they would have no reason to change them?" Ackbar pushed.

"Yes Sir."

"That's an awfully big assumption." Admiral Stone maintained, shaking her head.

"The codes were checked less than two weeks ago and found to be still active." Madine assured, everyone falling to silence at that, considering.

"So we have the codes- the means to influence the internal systems of the ship." Leia prompted, her own interest rising, "And you're suggesting what?"

"As I said, the original plan was to send the Invincible into the atmosphere; take her down to the umbra under her own power then cut all power to the engines. Destroyers are not designed for planetary gravity; without shear, she'd take an unviable entry and break up as she hit the atmosphere." Madine said, "Obviously without the cover of our own DEMP's to disable the other Destroyers who would be there for the flight that's not possible; they would move in to stop her- disable her engines long before she reached Coruscant's atmosphere and take her under tractor-beam tow. However, I still think that this is an unparalleled opportunity; the Emperor seldom leaves the safety of Coruscant."

"He's only in orbit." Stone pointed out.

"In a ship we will have control of." Madine maintained, "The paramount vessel of the fleet- nothing can touch us."

Everyone stilled to silence again, considering.

"Could we use our control of the Invincible to activate its own onboard DEMP's and continue the mission as originally planned?" Ackbar asked, bringing hopeful eyes to him.

"No, Sir." It was Intel Chief Tag who replied, "Unfortunately the Invincible's DEMP's won't be online for the launch; present intelligence suggests they're to be completed at the shipyards in the Koornacht Cluster soon after."

"No chance we could actually get 'em running for the launch- with our own 'techs?" Han asked, though there wasn't much hope in his voice.

"No, Sir. They were never intended to be active for the inaugural flight; the Invincible was always intended to carry out shakedown manoeuvres en-route to the Koornacht Shipyards, then have the final fit and fine-tune."

"Could we lock off the Bridge? Keep Palpatine confined there until we've used the overrides to make a jump out of system?" Stone said, considering.

"No," Leia replied, eyes narrowing in thought, "Launches are traditionally held in low orbit in order to be visible from the planet's surface. There'd be too many other Star Destroyers in our path; we'd never find a safe trajectory in time. If we're not able to disabled those Destroyers, as we could have done with DEMP's they'll immobilize the Invincible's engines to keep us there - or simply use tractor-beams."

"Seal off the Bridge then; cut off oxygen?"

"Possibly," Madine allowed.

"Nah," Han interjected, "A Destroyer Bridge is a big area. You'd be giving 'em an awful long time to get out before they were out of air- and the rest of the Destroyer crew a long time to get to them, no matter how many troops we had onboard."

"Explosive decompression?" Leia suggested. Everyone fell to silence, considering.

"We'd need to check the plans- I don't think there's an airlock." Tag murmured.

"If it were inside the Invincible's defence shields, a relatively small ship could blow out the viewpanes." Leia said.

"All ships without security clearance would have been banned from the area two days in advance." Tag said, always familiar with her enemy's protocols.

Everyone fell to silence again; it was Han who spoke up, "Take one of theirs- hell, they'll have bays full of 'em. If we have the Command Overrides we can release a few TIE's and get 'em into space inside the Invincible's shields."

Tag nodded, "The shields would also prevent the TIE's being shot down by other Destroyers."

Leia considered… was it possible- did they have a real shot at Palpatine? "We could lock down the whole ship to limit Imperial responses from onboard the Invincible- every blast door. Shut down comms- seriously hamper any rescue attempt."

"The Bridge blast doors are the highest-rated onboard." Tag said, lost in thought, "And there'll be three sets in the stretch of corridor to either side of the bridge. If all blast doors were engaged using the override code it would take a while for anyone to get through, even with explosives or cutters."

"Where would we need to be to use the codes?" Han asked, leaning in now, getting a feel for the overall plan.

Madine looked to Tag. "Ops Three, halfway up the Command Tower; that would probably be our best bet. Override Codes will work from various locations; you could close blast doors from any class-one terminal, but to have access to the whole of the Destroyer, including the Bridge doors, defense shields and the TIE Bays, you'd need to be in Ops. And you'd need to be there on the day."

"Can the codes not be used remotely?" Leia asked.

"No. These are back-door codes specific to this ship. There are unique Command Override Codes designed to be used remotely, but these aren't them. We'd never intended to use them in any other way than onboard; when the original plan was made, we didn't expect to have any opposition- our own DEMP's would have rendered any other ship in the area inoperative."

"So we're getting on-board." Leia said, unsure now. "How?"

"It would need to be three days before; they'll begin moving all non-military personnel off then." Tag offered the details, as ever.

"Hey, how hard can it be?" Han asked, "Have you seen the size of one of those things?" I don't believe we can't just find somewhere quiet to stow away for a few days… take a reader, a pack of cards maybe."

"It would have to be a small team if we're hiding them." Leia said, ignoring the Corellian's wisecrack, "Twenty; no more. Four pilots who can fly TIE's; the rest of us will split into two teams and make our way to the Ops Three separately, both units having the Command Code."

"Wait a minute… _us_?" Han interjected.

"I'm not about to sit this one out." Leia stated firmly.

"That's exactly what you're gonna do, _boss_." Han said, emphasising his last word.

Tag agreed; "You're no longer in a position where active service missions are an option, Chief."

Leia pursed her lips, "You seriously think I'm going to pass this chance up? This isn't open for discussion; I'm going to be there."

"I'm sorry, Chief, but I can't allow it; I'd be failing in my duty if I did." Tag said firmly, her eyes going to Ackbar for support.

He wasn't slow to offer it, "Leia; you know this would be unwise. Please reconsider."

Leia held her ground, unwilling to let this opportunity go by; to be there - to be in the team who finally brought Palpatine down… or at least had a good chance at it. "Chief Mothma often took command roles in the field-" She argued- and had already seen the error of her words when Madine shot her down.

"Yes- and we lost her there, because we let that rule slide. We can't afford another change in leadership right now, your Highness. Your input and experience would be very much appreciated - from here."

Leia fell to silence before that, looking into the faces of those about the table, knowing there'd be no arguing with them

"….. Fine." Leia agreed, cornered- but she wouldn't give up without a fight; it wasn't in her nature. No; she'd bide her time…

Han turned back to the assemblage, that laconic glint in his eye, "I, on the other hand, am completely expendable, so should head up the team."

Leia took a breath, about to state in no uncertain terms that if she wasn't going, then he wasn't going either, but caught herself in time.

"That's a great idea." She said, bringing his wary eyes back to hers, looking for the catch. "But I think you should fly the escape ship."

"Wait a minute- I'm not sittin' in some boring ship in some empty hangar while everyone else goes trottin' round a Star Destroyer swee…" He paused, realising what he was about to call her in a formal conference in which minutes were being diligently taken. She smiled just slightly and he pursed his lips, half-stubborn, half-sulking; "I'm still not doin' it."

"The important thing about this is going to be keeping a retreat corridor open for the two teams Han; no-one's going to expect us to be there on the way _to_ the Ops room- on the way back, not only will it be a running firefight, but a good portion of the fleet will be just waiting for us to exit the Invincible and run for deep space. I won't ask anybody to go on a suicide mission, therefore I'm going to put my best pilot at the stick."

"I can go on the mission and _then_ fly." Han maintained, ignoring the ego-massage, not missing the fact that she had just said '_us_ not '_them'_, but keeping it quiet- for now.

"I think this is perhaps a discussion for later." Leia charged, lifting perfectly-arched eyebrows over mahogany-brown eyes. She turned away, looking to the greater assembly, "For now I'd like to call for a vote on this?"

There was a nod of assent from those about the table, Madine clenching his jaw, willing the project forward without wishing to seem too eager. Leia glanced about, then nodded. "We have an undivided vote, which constitutes an agreement in principle; the mission will go ahead."

Madine smiled, triumphant; Leia had agreed, placing herself in an irriversible position without anybody addressing the one issue he'd hoped fervently that nobody would mention- The Heir would be on the Bridge too.

.

.

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**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

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.

Mara sat hunched down in a small droid maintenance corridor overlooking the Aft Bay, which was always closed to all personnel besides the 701st Stormtroopers. The Commander's Untouchables, they were being called now, and with good reason; no-one had access to the areas of the ship which they were stationed in, neither docking bays nor accommodation nor supplies nor recreation bays. They were a completely separate entity within the Destroyer. It had been done gradually and subtly, the 701st split up and moved often, barracks kept at several locations, but Palace Intel had slowly come to realise that they had little idea of numbers or identities. They had all the official figures of course, and they all added up... it just didn't _feel_ right to Mara.

So she was on a little recon. She'd managed to trace shipwide 'droid maintenance access shutes to a point where she was close enough to an internal wall in the Aft Bay to drill two tiny holes and set two surveillance lenses, the transmitters taped to the inside of the cavity wall high up, close to the ceiling.

To avoid being picked up in random anti-surveillance scans, the lenses were shielded and live-wire-only. Requiring Mara to actually be with the system when it was active and power it down when she left, this made the system difficult to detect even on close scans. But it also meant that if she wanted any information, Mara had to be close by sending an active wired signal from her monitor. Which meant she was spending her night off sitting in a cramped, stuffy, unheated maintenance corridor watching a huge, neatly-arrayed docking bay practically devoid of life. Apparently even if she had nothing better to do with her night, the 701st did.

Reece was with Skywalker tonight, the pair going through reams of reports from Abregado-rae's official agencies. They'd made planetary orbit three days earlier and Luke was just... hanging around it seemed to Mara; procrastinating. Looking at accounts which were obviously forged - he knew that as well as she did; at the tip of the Shapani Bypass, Abregado-rae had long been the centre for all smuggling operations entering the Colonies, the planetary wealth probably doubling due to bribes and deals.  
But this was nothing new, and Luke was generally a great advocate of '_better the devil you know_' which made his close scrutiny all the more puzzling.

The obvious answer of course was that he was delaying his return to Coruscant. They were almost two months into the Tour of Duty, and were now completing their their wide loop and heading for Coruscant, only a few more scheduled stops to go. And they both knew that when they reached Coruscant and the Palace, their nightly meetings were suspended and their affair put on hold, so in truth she wasn't complaining about the length of stay, or looking too hard for its reason.

They had... settled was the wrong word, but she had felt the slow change over the last few months as they had been together, safely away from the prying eyes on Coruscant. Their affair remained nothing if not explosive, but then that was part of the draw for Mara.

He had changed so much in the last four years. All the big, sweeping changes were so easy to mark, but it was the subtle changes which had crept upon him without her even noticing that she considered now. For so long she had looked to the man and seen a glint of Palpatine's precious wolf in his eyes and then - so gradually that she couldn't mark an individual moment or name a date - now... now she often felt as if she were looking into the eyes of the wolf, searching for some trace of the man beneath.

Did it bother her?

No. She'd spent her life walking amongst wolves- so much so that it felt natural to her now, the spark which lit the flame. The man who had come here had been fascinating and strong and honourable and maybe if things had been different...

But they weren't and it didn't matter- because now she had a wolf, and the thrill in being close to that stormy, feral, volatile edge would always bring her back one more time. Occasionally she still saw the pilot who had been brought here and the moments were all the more valued for their rareness... but much as she loved the man with the sky blue eyes, much as he'd pulled her in long before the wolf ever turned those mismatched, ice-cool eyes on her, she also loved the exhilaration of running with the wolf... and she knew it.

She gazed blankly at the image of the empty bay, mind wandering...

She remembered distinctly when she had defended the Emperor once during their last stay on Coruscant, their relationship already irrevocably changed but still very much an unknown quantity. Beladon D'Arca had turned to Luke as they had made their way through the expansive stretch of the Attendants Hall following Court. Palpatine had stopped to enter into conversation with someone, forcing everyone in his entourage to wait until he set forward again.

Stood a half-pace behind Luke, she had seen him backstep as D'Arca approached, but with nowhere to retreat he had been forced into conversation, the influential man congratulating Luke on his upcoming command, the Invincible, adding that he had great respect for those the Emperor valued, asking whether he may press The Heir to attend an upcoming event at his estate on Coruscant.

When Luke had issued a polite decline, citing Fleet obligations, D'Arca had nodded appreciatively, stating that he of course understood; many of his family held positions of great responsibility within the Fleet. He did however insist that The Heir should consider an invitation to take advantage of his family's 'Hunting Lodges' in their estates on Borleias, Commenor or Teyr open-ended; surely, he espoused, a thin smile to his dry lips, the Emperor's Wolf would appreciate the opportunity to indulge in a hunt?

Mara had watched Luke's shoulders tighten from behind, his spine straightening, and momentarily worried that he may actually knock the man to the ground right there and then.

But the procession moved abruptly forward, saving her- and probably D'Arca - from having to deal with that event, though just to be sure she had stepped level as D'Arca turned about, murmuring hushed counsel as Luke had quietly cursed his Master for giving him the epithet at all.

Mara had made the mistake of claiming in whispered tones that it fitted him - and he'd rounded on her, eyes ablaze though his face remained a neutral mask, his voice low and tight in the crowded hall, "If I'm a wolf then it's because I live in their company!"

"I didn't say otherwise." she'd defended mildly as they walked slowly forward, her eyes front, experiencing the same dangerous thrill she always felt at being in his company when he was like this.

"Then you're a fool to be here- never trust a wolf." he growled, body tense, stance subtly aggressive though he remained outwardly calm, keeping pace with the entourage as it stepped forward, his frustration hidden by the fact that as they passed, those about him in the Hall were already bowed low in respect.

She'd hesitated, glancing momentarily from the assembly to him, tensing slightly in reaction to his body language, aware of how close to the edge she was walking in continuing this conversation, of how quickly that volatile temperament could now shift- daring herself to step closer still.

"I trust _you_." Mara had countered, emphasising the difference, knowing instinctively how to calm her wolf.

He stared ahead in silence for long moments... and though the wild fury bled from his eyes, they remained sharp and fierce.

"No you don't," he murmured at last, voice still holding genuine menace but contained now; restrained. "Not really. You _tell_ yourself you can trust- you think you're safe because for some reason you believe you can control it... but _I_ can't, so I'm damn sure that you can't. You're not nearly as safe as you think."

It was an incredible admission, not least because he so clearly believed it.

"You're saying that you're capable of hurting me?" she'd asked, glancing to him, shaking her head decisively, "I don't believe you."

He took a long step ahead of Mara, dismissive now, the moment and his temper mastered again. But before he left, he issued one last caution; "I'm saying if you reach out to a wolf you shouldn't be surprised when it bites."

.

Mara hunkered down in the cramped corridor now, considering his words. It had been a warning, she knew; and it had been genuine.

Did she trust him?

She wanted to say yes... but then what was she doing here?

And then again, bearing her present actions in mind... should he trust her?

Her consideration was abruptly halted as the docking bay below her dropped its shields momentarily to allow a large shuttle to enter. Mara shimmied upright in the close space, frowning; there was nothing due to come in on the Bridge logs- and even if it were, this was hardly a recognised port of entry.

The Skipray - an Intel 420; fast and tough and loved by local enforcement and smugglers alike - settled to a smooth stop in the centre of the bay, a small group of 701st Stormtroopers coming to a halt before it.

Mara watched two men walk casually down the ramp, cursing the fact that she hadn't chosen a lens that could zoom; who'd have thought she'd see anyone but troopers?

The younger man, slim and slight with a flash of electric blue to the front of bleached-white hair, halted at the ship's ramp while they conversed a moment, then the second - obviously in charge, tall and athletic with dark hair and a thick, heavy handlebar moustache - set forward with the troops, though his body-language inferred that he was anything but intimidated.

They disappeared from the lens's wide field of view and Mara scrabbled up, abandoning her screen where it lay, intending to go and try to pick them up in the corridor two levels down near the bay.

When she got down to the point where the restricted corridors joined more public ones, there was no-one to be seen. Mara briefly considered contacting Security to check where they had gone, but hesitated; either they had come in under the sensors somehow, or they were _allowed_ in by someone in Security, in which case alerting them to the fact that she knew someone was aboard wasn't exactly a bright idea; clearly this wasn't intended to be common knowledge. And if the anonymous visitor had been smuggled onboard, they would probably be moving him around the ship the same way.

She frowned, walking slowly down the empty corridor; either way, she had a pretty good idea where their mystery guest had _gone_...

.

.

"I seem to be a ship or two short." Karrde announced, neither irritated nor absolving, "I counted them. Twice."

The Heir smiled easily, in good humour tonight, and Karrde wondered again at his true age; at times, when he was tired and serious and volatile, he seemed very close to Karrde's own age, but in casual moments like this when he was at ease, genuinely smiling, the smuggler could swear he was only in his twenties- early twenties at that.

Like everyone else with any kind of vested interest, Karrde had expended serious amounts of currency trying to unearth some concrete evidence as to who The Heir really was... and like everyone else, he'd come up blank.

The man himself flashed that genial smile which pulled at the deep scar running through his lips as he spoke in a perfectly-modulated Coruscanti accent - too perfect, to Karrde's mind.

"You have too many anyway. Think of the maintenance I've saved you."

"Yes; and all that revenue which I will now have to turn down was becoming rather a drag."

"I'll sort something out for you." The Heir allowed casually, walking back from the console table with two glasses of brandy in his hand and offering one to Karrde. "I'll leave them at Bilbringi and make sure you have their operating codes. Which would you like, Brigs or a Xebecs?"

"I'll have Xebecs." Karrde said, satisfied with the exchange; although the ships would have no upgrades and need their military past disguising, they would be newer, more reliable and considerably bigger than the freighters he'd lost. It was a fair exchange, generous in fact, and the man who offered it did so without conditions, he knew that. "Will they come with papers of ownership?"

"No, but then I doubt you had those for the ones I lost. They won't show up on any Imperial registry as missing." Luke assured, "And I _think _someone once told me you knew a man who could forge documents and call signs... but I could be wrong."

Karrde raised his thick eyebrows at the good-natured dig, but didn't answer, the matter settled as far as he was concerned.

His own transport, the heavily modified freighter Wild Karrde, remained in orbit about the nearby planet of Giju, a popular smuggler's safe-spot on the edge of the Tapani Sector, leading Karrde to believe the rumours that the Peerless, the Dominant and the Zephyr were in the process of making Abregado-Rae's Ruling Council very uncomfortable at the moment. A fact that seemed to put The Heir in particularly good spirits.

But then, it always seemed to Karrde that the man's mood lifted in direct proportion to the amount of time he had been away from Coruscant. He wondered briefly whether he should point this out but decided against it; observations of his personal life were never welcome, whatever his mood, and anyway the conversation had moved on, The Heir's demeanour tightening somewhat as he turned to more important business.

"Do you have access to a chemist? A reliable one."

"What kind?" Karrde asked easily, curious now.

"I need a DNA decoder - someone capable of disassembling the constituents of a tailor-made drug and synthesising at the very least an antidote and preferably an immunisation."

Karrde frowned; that kind of specialist was hardly routine. The type who could mix up recreational drugs or break them down to be shipped in their constituent parts so they wouldn't be recognised was commonplace, but decoding complex tailor-made drugs was three steps beyond anyone Karrde could think of offhand.

"I'll see what I can track, but we don't use one ourselves. What you're talking about would necessitate an extensive lab and considerable specialist equipment. The..." he almost said it; almost said _'The Empire keep tabs on that kind of thing'_, but caught himself in time.

"I can provide funds to set the right individual up in the Rim System and make sure they have any equipment they need." Luke assured, knowing what Karrde was thinking, aware of what he was asking, "But they have to be very reliable and discrete."

"What would they be required to do?"

"Break down a sample of a drug I supply." Luke still didn't have a sample of the drug Palpatine used against him but, wary of giving Karrde too much information, he covered his trail a little, implying that this was for a third party. "I don't have the sample yet and I've not been given an exact date as to when it will arrive, but as soon as it does, I can turn it over."

"Species?" Karrde prompted; that kind of specialisation would probably narrow the field considerably.

"Human, as far as I know." Luke replied, taking the opportunity to further distance himself from the drug.

Karrde couldn't resist raising an eyebrow just slightly, "Playing the good samaritan or making a deal?"

"Certain concessions have been promised," Luke offered vaguely, unwilling to have a lie tied down to specifics that he may have to remember at a later date; Karrde was too sharp to let any mistake pass him by. "This is simply a gesture of good faith."

As it was, the smuggler chief considered for a few seconds before filling in the gaps with some interesting information of his own, all be it accidentally. "Would this be for a certain well-placed house named D'Arca?"

Luke's expression changed not a whit, "Why would you say that?"

Karrde shrugged, "Well they've certainly been going out of their way recently to make it known that they hold great deal of respect for the new Heir. Beladon D'Arca seems to have made it his mission to be seen to be backing you."

Which was interesting Luke reflected, since aside from a few brief words at an assortment of formal functions or in Court, he had never really spoken to the head of the high-ranking, powerful family, well placed in both the Royal Houses and the military. But he had heard his name several times recently from different sources, all saying pretty much the same thing.

"Really?" he couldn't hide the genuine interest from his voice, making Karrde frown.

"You didn't know?"

"Yes, I'm just curious as to why." Something itched in the back of his senses. Not pushing yet; not important, but there nonetheless.

"Perhaps he's just placing an each-way bet." Karrde said easily, meaning that the man was backing both Palpatine and his Heir.

"But why stick his neck out and make that public?" Luke murmured, unconvinced, "Why risk his present position?"

The smuggler shrugged to hide his surprise; this was the first time that the Heir had ever really entered into a discussion with him- actually _asked_ his opinion. "One must speculate to accumulate. It's not enough for a family like that to be influential, they need to ensure that they maintain that power base long-term." Karrde added as a last note, with the barest hint of a pause, "So then may I assume that the D'Arca's aren't the ones with the problem?

Luke ignored the last entirely, forehead creased by a frown as he considered. "If you hear anything else, try to find what the link is between the D'Arca's and myself- the one that they're pushing publically at least."

"Do you want me to put someone on it?"

"No." Luke said slowly, still considering, "Not unless something interesting comes up. Just keep your ear to the ground."

Karrde nodded, taking a sip from the glass; so whatever game the D'Arca's were playing, The Heir wasn't personally involved- as yet. If Karrde believed him that was - which he felt he did in this instance; that had been a rare burst of genuine curiosity he'd just seen. It could have just been an act; Karrde was after all an information broker and The Heir wasn't his only client, but Karrde wasn't foolish enough to actually pass on anything said between himself and his most valued, influential client to a third party without express permission and they both knew it.

He glanced down at the glass in his hand, the taste of the Corellian brandy bringing his thoughts back to the moment; it was intensely smokey, rich and tannin-laced, like a fortified wine, "I really must remember to bring you some Ruusan brandy next time I come."

The Heir leaned back in his seat as it adjusted to conform to his relaxed pose, unoffended despite his next words, "I'm insulted; you spurn my hospitality."

"Not at all; just your brandy." Karrde left a long pause before speaking again, keeping his voice light, not looking to the Heir. "I hear you gave a shipfull of Bothans their freedom?"

The younger man glanced away, his manner instantly changing to dry and disinterested, "I'm a magnanimous man, didn't you know?"

"Actually I did - but you seem to go to such lengths to hide it normally." Karrde replied.

The Heir only smiled tightly, eyes calculating now, casual informality instantly gone. "I'm not trying to alienate the Bothan people. I was closing down a spy ring, nothing more; the fact that the group were all Bothans was incidental. I released the Attin'Cho and its crew to clarify that."

He looked meaningfully to Karrde at the last, and the Smuggler Chief knew that this information was offered with the intention that it be widely disseminated.

"I'm sure they'll be relieved to know." Karrde acknowledged; he didn't mind passing this on to a few choice people; smooth flying for his client meant smooth flying for Karrde- and that was after all, what he had dedicated his life toward.

"I have a job for you." Luke said easily, bringing Karrde's attention to the moment. "I'll need a new code; I know you like a little notice to start working one up."

Karrde frowned, surprised, "You think they've cracked the existing one? Ghent's usually better than..."

"No, they haven't." Luke assured, "But I don't intend to give them the time to try. Habits are dangerous, you know that."

Karrde put the empty glass on the table before him, voice straining as he reached forward, "Then you should _definitely_ stop drinking Corellian brandy."

.

.

.

The comm set into the unit beside Luke's bed sounded very quietly, twice, jolting both Mara and Luke awake, then it cut off, falling silent again. Mara remained still, feeling Luke stir where her arm was draped about him.

When it sounded again he rose quickly from the bed and walked through to the main room without answering it, pulling a gown about himself as the door sliding shut behind him, leaving Mara to frown in the darkness. She glanced over at the chrono; it was still almost two hours before reveille.

Despite the closed door she could hear him slide open a drawer and fumble within for a few moments before he answered the comm, presumably from the comlink set into his desk in the main room, she realised.

"Yes?"

Silence followed, in which Mara realised that the drawer oppening must have been for him to retrieve an earpiece to take the call privately; obviously the on-off-on tone was a signal to do so. The question was, from whom? She frowned in the still silence, holding her breath, listening to the decidedly one-sided conversation;

"Yes... Yes. When?... Hn. No- bring them here... yes."

Silence fell again, and Mara held still, listening for some sound to indicate that he was returning...

The loud bang as he slammed the earpiece forcibly onto the desk made her jump despite herself, then he muttered something under his breath in a language she didn't know- Bocce maybe? It didn't matter; she knew a curse when she heard one.

He didn't return, remaining in the dark of the main room.

Eventually the door entry sounded, and a few moments later she heard him rise and open it. The murmured voices were too quiet to pick out, the conversation too brief to decipher the second party, then the door closed and a few moments later he returned to the bedroom, sliding back into bed and laying on his back with a long, low sigh.

"Problems?" Mara asked, as casually as she could muster.

Considering his normal reticence she didn't expect an answer, though she suspected that often he was guarded just out of habit, with nothing particular to hide.

"Nothing unexpected." he stated mechanically, gaze to the ceiling.

She rested her arm across his chest and felt his muscles tense slightly. When she looked up minutes later, he was still staring into the darkness, a million light-years away.

He shifted around for the next forty-five minutes before finally rising, more resigned to the fact that he wasn't able to sleep than because he wished to get up, Mara knew, but he pulled on a pair of sleeping trousers and disappear into the main room without a word.

She waited for a while, but when he didn't return and she heard no further noise, Mara eventually rose and dressed, padding quietly about the room; she needed to be up and away a good hour before reveille anyway, whilst the guards were still sluggish and before the shift change put more people into the corridors.

When she finally slid the door open, fastening her gunbelt as she did so, he was still sat in the dark in the heavy hide-covered chair before the viewpane, gazing out into space, elbows resting on the arms, fingers steepled before his mouth.

He remained still and mute when she approached, so Mara leaned down, hand resting against his chest just to touch his bare skin, kissing him lightly on the forehead when he still didn't move his hands or lift his face to her.

"I have to go." she murmured simply and he nodded, preoccupied.

Mara set across the still-darkened room, curious as to what had instigated his detached, withdrawn mood. She was three paces away, passing the polished expanse of his work-desk, when the glint of starlight on metal revealed why.

Thrown onto the desk were the two surveillance lenses she had installed into the 701st's docking bay, their shattered transmitters and Mara's viewer beside them. She'd left them on - damnit, when she'd chased after the unknown visitor in the 701st's hold, she'd left them active - and so traceable. Mara faltered to a stop, unsure what to say.

"Oh, don't forget those." he said casually without turning, "I'm sure you'll want to use them again."

His voice was completely even, without the slightest emotional tell, and it left Mara cold, uncertain of what he would do.

"I wasn't watching _you_." she said at last, though even she heard the petty distinction.

"You were watching mine, which amounts to the same thing." he stated, his cool reserve unnerving.

"I was charged with providing numbers of the 701st, that's _all_." Mara defended. She'd never been caught out before- not like this; by Luke.

"You could have simply asked." he said evenly, still turned away from her, the atmosphere charged.

"Could I?" Mara said, tensed slightly in reaction to his cool manner, though she felt under no threat. Rather, she felt energised- walking this close to danger, to untamed, unpredictable, raw emotion. Always daring herself to step closer still. "Fine, then here's a question; a man arrived in an Intel 420 Skipray last night. He stayed just over an hour then left- who was he?"

Which was not the direction Luke had expected this to go; he'd been livid- incensed that she'd set surveillance on his troops then have the gall to come here and lay beside him- and now, suddenly he was on the defensive, and he knew it.

Considering how and when they'd found her equipment, he knew she'd ask eventually, just not now. It was after all a surveillance sweep because Karrde's ship was in the hangar bay which had turned up the devices, simply because she'd happened to leave them active - presumably when she'd tried to get a better look at the unknown visitor. If she'd deactivated them before setting off, they would still be there, undetected.

But now she'd put him on the back foot by asking a question which he had no intention of answering; Karrde and his contacts were far too useful. Nor did he want to make a big issue out of refusing to answer, which would only draw more attention to the fact, particularly when he'd just told her to ask him such things- if for no other reason than to control the answers.

The only path left to him was to try to take her off-topic and to hide the avoidance behind a bigger statement. He shook his head, turning to look at her, having no real problem summoning a sense of restrained offence. "You're unreal, you know that? You spent hours last night spying on me - listing my every move so that you can go and report it all to Palpatine - and then what? You send your report, you walk over here and you just climb into bed with me without missing a beat."

She stared at him, eyes ablaze, wounded and outraged in the same moment.

Knowing her as he did, it was so easy now to just push her over the edge; "What's wrong Mara- didn't get enough information? Or is this just another regular surveillance job for you - long hours but at least you're not on your feet all day."

"You son of a barrig!" Mara stepped forward, hand pulling back to deliver a blow, but rather than the open-handed slap that most women would give, hers pulled into a tight fist, all the strength of her shoulder behind her arm as she roundhoused the blow forward.

He stepped up and in quickly, right hand out to block the blow, then at the very last second he brought his left hand in, grabbing at her arm and yanking her forwards and down so the blow missed, dragging her to him, using his own bodyweight to stop her as she barrelled into him.

His own outrage welled up in him, both at his own words - a provocation yes, but tinged in truth - and at Mara's reaction; indignation she had no right to adopt, to his mind. Darkness answered, as it always did, dropping his voice to a threatening whisper as he leaned closer, still holding her by the top of her arm, mouth so close to her ear that her hair fluttered as he hissed, "Come on Mara- you're faster than that."

She yanked her arm back intending to catch him a backwards blow across his chin with her elbow but he was too fast, leaning back and twisting away from her though he didn't release her arm.

"Please- you would have lied." Mara accused as she twisted her arm free, aware of the blind anger rising from his cool detachment now. "That's what you _do_ - which is why this is what_ I_ do - why Palpatine put me here, you know that."

He loosed a feral grin, head tilted in warning, pale eyes hidden by twists of dark hair. "And you know what_ I_ do when I catch people who do this."

Mara had backed up two steps before she even realised it, his manner for the first time linking Luke and Palpatine in her head, but she stopped; _made_ herself hold her ground as his whole demeanor changed, stance subtly aggressive.

"You think you're the exception? You think you've bought your immunity? Those aren't the rules Mara, you know that. If it's still okay for you to spy on me then I think I'm within my rights to retaliate, don't you? Business as usual, that's what you just said; Palpatine places his spies and I stop them- _remove_ them. "

Mara turned to leave, aware that this time some line had been crossed, that this had slipped from argument to antagonism, from spirited quarrel to genuine, unpredictable danger. Luke sidestepped with her, slamming his hand against the wall to the side of Mara's head, blocking her exit.

Fixing his menacing gaze with an unimpressed glare she backstepped, but he stayed level with her and slammed his other hand to the wall behind her. Mara's fiery temper flared and she twisted lightening-fast to trap the hand in a pressure grip, bending his wrist against the natural movement. He reached out, grabbing her arm and twisting his own hand free in one smooth move.  
She launched out with the heel of her free hand toward his face and he brought her arm which he still held across to bat down against the inside of her own elbow, stopping her blow before it made contact. Moves she'd taught him, strike and counter-strike, flawlessly timed.

It was a fast, controlled fight at very close quarters, no room for Mara to manoeuvre pressed against the wall, carried out in absolute silence, Luke using speed and strength against Mara's greater experience, the only noise that of skin contacting skin. The flurry of movement only stopped when Luke finally got a good enough hold on one of Mara's arms to pin it to the wall at head-height, wrist out-

Something hard pressed against Luke's stomach and looked down. Mara had drawn the holdout blaster from her hip and held it levelled at his midriff. He looked back up and she arched her eyebrows pointedly, "Back off."

Luke remained where he was, still holding her pinned. "You're going to shoot me now?" he asked levelly, and she held her resolve, chin lifting.

"Back off." She repeated, very serious.

"Do you really think you can hurt me with a gun, Mara?"

She felt a momentary flare of panicked doubt pressing in on her, blanketing her thoughts, and struggled free of it, realising that it wasn't her own, that he was _placing_ it there. Setting her head to one side, she raised her eyebrows as she pushed the muzzle against his bare skin, sense as wild as his own now, outraged and furious and deadly serious.

"Why- you think you can dodge?" she asked dryly, " 'Cos I think this may be a little too close, even for you."

He loomed over her, unimpressed, "I don't need to- I drained the power out."

She hesitated just a fraction of a second, "You're bluffing."

"I never bluff Red, you know that."

Mara narrowed her eyes further, trying to see through that set, neutral expression and past the hard warning in those mismatched eyes... "You bluff occasionally..."

He didn't bother to answer, just stared down at her.

Finally she cracked a fraction. "When?"

"Last night." He tilted his head just slightly, "I don't mind sleeping with a poisonous viper but I'm not about to let it bite."

Incensed, Mara had pulled the trigger before she even knew what she was doing...

.

The compact blaster let out an exhausted cough, insufficient gas in the chamber to ignite.

Neither of them moved for long seconds, blue eyes locked on green as the silence stretched to shatter-point...  
Finally Luke let out a low sigh in the back of his throat, part amusement, part exasperation, his arm muscles bunching as he pushed away from the wall, releasing her, the moment of raw anger dispersed by the outrageous act; Luke Skywalker stepping free from the influence of Palpatine's Wolf.  
"We are two of the most screwed up people I've ever met."

Mara too grinned, the burst of edgy adrenaline making her giddy, "Fortunately we found each-other. Anybody else and I think we'd have killed them by now."

He turned, unoffended, "I can't believe you pulled the trigger."

"You called me a viper!" she defended lightly.

He walked away toward the fresher, his morning routine continuing as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Mara followed, dropping her blaster on the bed as she passed, choosing not to notice the tremble in her hand.

"Do you always empty my blaster?" She knew this wasn't the case- she'd have noticed.

"No." he replied, raising his voice over the sound of the water, "I didn't last night either."

Frowning, Mara backstepped into the bedroom to pick up her blaster and turn it over to check the power- it was almost full.

She leaned on the fresher doorframe, the fine, warm mist from the water shower cloying, "How did you do that?"

"Made it misfire. With the Force."

She nodded, impressed, "Neat trick. I've never heard..." Mara paused, realising, "I _knew_ you were bluffing!"

He shrugged, his back to her now, the water streaming off his body, "It doesn't work every time. If there's already enough gas in the chamber to ignite..."

She stared at him, amazed and disturbed that he'd let her pull the trigger when he could so easily have stopped her - why the hell hadn't he stopped her?! She shook her head slowly, murmuring to herself, "You and your stupid '_Fate'_, Skywalker."

What the hell was going on in his head that had made him prepared to take that kind of gamble again and again? Another thought occurred, taking her mind away from that disturbing question as she was suddenly uncomfortably aware that she could have shot Luke Skywalker in the belly at close range...

_That_ was how furious he could make her. Was this what normal people did in the passion of the moment- or was Skywalker right and they were both just way too screwed up?

Then again, even she tended not to actually shoot people for calling her names, and Skywalker sure as hell wasn't in the habit of letting people take potshots at him with impunity...

Was this... love? Or at least as near as they could get in their twisted, warped little world. Because she knew exploitation and she knew manipulation, and it didn't feel like this. She continued to stare at his back, at once elated and energized... and deeply disquieted.

"In or out?" he said evenly, without turning.

"What?" she asked, roused from her reverie.

"In or out - it's cold and I'm naked here."

She grinned, stepping forward into the steam-filled 'fresher, "Well in, naturally."


	21. Chapter 21

Luke stood quietly before the wide viewpanes to the rear of his Ready-room aboard the Peerless, considering, eyes on the massed glow of the Koornacht Cluster. The Peerless and the Dauntless were making a close pass through the Farlax Sector and their military Shipyards on the final leg of their return journey to Coruscant. He'd stretched the Tour of Duty to just over two months and had been considering announcing spot-checks of the shipyards, more from the desire to delay his return to Coruscant than any greater purpose.

But the news he'd just received had changed everything, requiring an editing of his own plans in response, whichever way this turned out. Nathan Hallin was already with him and he was awaiting Reece's arrival, having found a distraction for Mara, needing her gone so that he could discuss this new development immediately; if he were to act upon it, it should be now.

He sighed out his frustration at this; at being forced into these charades. Games within games; plans within plans. Perhaps his father was right; perhaps he had learned too well the lessons his Master taught - because he couldn't quite recognise who were friends and who were foes anymore… couldn't quite recall why that mattered.

More and more he worried at the ease with which he could step back, viewing everyone he knew as just pawns to be played, games within games within games…

Hallin's voice interrupted his bleak thoughts, "Perhaps I've found a new vocation."

"What?" Luke turned to see the slight, dark-haired medic sat comfortably in his chair, pulled up to his desk.

"What do you think- would I make a good starship Captain?" Hallin asked, voice flippant, always looking to lighten the tone.

Luke turned away again, replying only distractedly, "No. And you're not sat at the Captain's desk- I'm Admiral of the Fleet."

"No?" Hallin turned, mock-offence coloring his words, "Please, don't pull any punches on my account; say what you think."

Luke turned back absently, "Your ship is at Coruscant and you're asked to attend to problems in the Bajic Sector; do you take the Corellian Run, Corellian Trade Spine, the Hydian Way or the Rimma Trade Route?"

"That's navigation- I'd have a Navigation Officer for that." Hallin countered smartly.

"What percentage of shield failure would result in tiling of shields becoming ineffective?"

"That's shields; I'd have a… Shield Officer or something for that." he replied gamely.

"In pitch battle, you're in command of five Destroyers; your second-in-command tells you that three enemy craft are forming up in the Secondary Zone to execute the Ackbar Slash manoeuvre- what are your orders?"

"Um…"

"Congratulations- you've just lost your Destroyer along with nine thousand Officers and twenty-seven thousand enlisted men. Probably at least one other ship as well."

Hallin leaned back, casually rearranging the assortment of readers and automemo's on the wide, polished desk, "See? Easy. I'm a natural."

Luke turned away again, aware of what Nathan was doing. "Sadly I know of several Destroyer Captains with just your skill level."

Far more than Wez Reece, Luke considered Nathan Hallin a friend rather than a co-conspirator; someone who had gotten caught up in this because of his choice of acquaintances and who remained ensnarled because he was unwilling to give those same people up, rather than for some greater or more self-serving cause.

Given that, Luke should probably feel guilty about lying to him; certainly he told Nathan the truth far more than Reece… but he still kept his options open - was that wrong?

He was saved from following that thought by a quiet knock on the door as Reece entered.

"Commander?" he prompted, glancing momentarily Nathan, realising that it was clearly something serious.

Luke didn't prevaricate; "The Rebels have a plan underway to assassinate the Emperor."

Reece frowned, "Viable?"

Luke set his head to one side in a near-shrug, allowing the possibility that it might be.

"Do we have details?"

"Apparently they have the Command Override Codes to the Invincible."

Hallin's eyes widened, "How?"

"Bothans- it was part of the original operation when they infiltrated the shipyards for the Dynamic EMP blueprints - though at this point that's irrelevant."

"What are they planning?"

"They were planning to use the codes to override Bridge command and take the Invincible on a unviable intercept course with Coruscant's atmosphere during her inaugural flight when the Emperor will be onboard - break her up under the stress."

Hallin straightened, "Wait a minute, aren't you at that inauguration?" He paused, glancing to Reece in alarm, "Aren't I?"

Luke shook his head, "They can't do that now; there are too many other Ships-of-the-Line in attendance; two Super Star Destroyers and about a dozen Star Destroyers. If they'd had the Dynamic EMP's they were intending to use them to disable all the other ships. As it is, there are at least two ships with sufficient mass to hold the Invincible back from entering the atmosphere on tractor beams, both of which have a percentage of hardened systems now that we know the rebellion gained plans of the DEMP- it's just not a workable plan anymore."

"They'll scale it down." Reece considered, "They can still take control of the ship with the codes, if they think we don't know."

"They intend to seal off the Bridge and blow out the viewpanes; explosive decompression." Luke said, voice casual.

Reece considered, eyes skipping across the desk before him, "Which means you need to be off the Bridge when it happens."

"I intend to be." Luke said simply, turning to Nathan, "And you'll be aboard the Peerless, along with Reece. Only Mara and I will attend."

Hallin raised his eyebrows in surprise, "You're taking Mara?"

"If I take no-one Palpatine will be suspicious and if I take Reece then Palpatine could easily pull the whole plot from his mind if either of us make the slightest slip. Mara doesn't know; she's the logical person to take."

There was a brief silence. It was Reece who asked the question, impassive as ever; "Will she remain on the Bridge?"

Luke had turned away to look out of the viewpane and didn't turn back to answer, the silence hanging heavy, though Hallin couldn't tell whether that was a confirmation, uncertainty or simply a decision not to elucidate. He was always reserved about his relationship with the fiery redhead; so much so that even this would be considered an intrusion and rebuffed.

Reece, who had no interest in The Heirs dealings in this matter other than professional - in terms of its impact on Luke's safety - moved on without further consideration, "Could the Emperor open the Blast Doors if they were locked down?"

"Yes," Luke said at last, his back still to them, "_If_ he knew what they were going to do then he no doubt would. If he didn't… he may allow them to feel momentarily in control, more out of curiosity than anything else- you know how confident he is. Once he realizes, to open two of the three sets of blast-rated Bridge doors would take thirty seconds each - maybe a minute. That may be all the time they need."

"Will the Rebels know that?"

"Probably not - which is why I'm considering telling them."

Another shocked silence took hold, both men turning to Luke where he stood, his back still to them, gazing out at the cluster.

"You're going to help them?" Hallin finally asked.

"I'm _considering_ it." Luke said. "…Opinions?"

"If it's unsuccessful and one of them is caught alive…" Hallin said, making Luke turn just slightly.

"I wasn't intending to comm them and say, 'Excuse me, this is The Heir; I understand you're about to get rid of a big problem for me so I thought I could offer a few pointers…'" Luke stated, dryly. "For one thing I doubt they'd believe anything I told them, and for another, they may well begin to ask how I know what they're doing."

"If you're putting information back to them through a third party then why are you worried?" Reece asked.

"Because I don't want it to be too much of a resounding success. I want it to work, but I need to balance that with how confident it would leave them if it did."

"Because?" Reece prompted. Luke remained initially silent, as if considering.

"Future intentions." He said at last, then, after further consideration, "I need them to think that I'm willing to negotiate with them if I came to power- force them to make a deal with me rather than continue with their hit and fade attacks. I'm not willing to spend years chasing shadows around the Rim Systems... and they're not going to come to the table if they're not hungry."

"You're going to negotiate with them!" Shock was audible in Reece's voice, a rarity for him. Too much so.

"No, I'm going to make them _think_ I'll negotiate with them." He corrected pointedly, "And I'm wondering whether giving them aid now and revealing that it was me at a later date will enhance my credibility- bring them to the table."

"You'd never get them to negotiate." Hallin said at last, "They're too wary of you."

"Mon would have been too wary; Leia Organa might just be amenable."

_Which was why he'd been so insistent on removing Mon when he had the chance_!  
Suddenly threads began to pull together for Hallin, isolated incidents falling into a greater plan. "Which is why you let the smuggler go!" he said of the Corellian onboard the Fury.

"Partly," Luke conceded, "He's close to Organa- she listens to his opinion."

Reece considered this fascinating glimpse of far-reaching plans; The Heir wasn't in the habit of handing out this kind of information without reason. "I doubt anybody else will be quite as open to his opinion."

"They don't need to be; just Organa; I'll approach her first. When she trusts me I'll get her to bring the Chiefs of Staff to a rendezvous - let her think that it was her idea, let her name the rendezvous and any security she requires - and I may bring along a few extra people of my own; just a Destroyer or two. It won't eradicate them completely, but if we can remove enough of their leaders at once it may well throw them into enough turmoil that we can weaken them considerably in the ensuing months- as part of a larger plan."

"Interesting." Reece allowed at last, looking for flaws; it was a loose plan but then this far in advance it would be foolish to believe one could have much more and he was sure Skywalker would elaborate only when he felt it necessary- but it had possibilities if the groundwork was laid well in advance, as The Heir seemed to be doing with his usual attention to detail.

Certainly having some kind of hold over the leader of the rebellion - and The Heir clearly believed he did - was no bad thing.

"So do I help them?" Luke repeated, bringing the conversation round.

Reece brought his mind back to the present problem, "Taking into account what you've said, I can see your dilemma… but I still think it's too much of a risk to get involved at this stage; there are too many variables and I think you know it."

Luke nodded his agreement, "I'm not dismissing it completely though; now that information is available I'll keep a close eye on developments."

"I'm sure it will change closer to the date." Reece agreed, "They say no battle plan survives…" he trailed off, seeing the sudden change in The Heir's eyes-

Luke had turned back to Hallin, "The Bothans."

Hallin frowned, "I'm sorry?"

"Bothans- you asked how they got the codes."

Nathan's frown increased, "You said it was irrelevant."

"I was wrong." Luke said quickly, conceit never a consideration, "If the Bothans who handed over the DEMPs got the information out, then Ollin'yaa surely knew."

"And the Emperor has Ollin'yaa." Hallin finished, of the Bothan Spy Master Luke himself had handed over following the capture of Mon Mothma.

"Which means he may already know." Luke stated, all three men pausing to consider this.

"We need to find out." Reece said at last, voicing Luke's own worry; "If Palpatine already knows, then the best line of action would be to inform him of your knowledge too, without delay."

"Except that he'll want to know how I found out." Luke replied, "And I'm not admitting to Argot"

"He already knows you have an informant in the rebellion headquarters." Hallin reasoned.

Luke ran his fingers back through his unruly hair in consideration, clasping his hands at the nape of his neck. "We need to get the Rebellion to check the codes they have- if they've been disabled or nullified then I'll take this to the Emperor. For now, I think the best course is to sit back and watch. Now that Argot is in the loop, I'll be kept informed."

Reece frowned; "It seems strange that Argot only got this information now."

"Only Madine knew." Luke smiled ironically; "They think they have a spy in their midst. Tag Massa has been charged with keeping a close eye on Solo." He glanced over to Hallin as the medic straightened in realisation, "And yes; that _is_ the other reason I keep letting him go."

.

.

.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

.

.

Luke sat crouched down against the wall on the wide balcony which ran the length of his apartments in the Palace, the humid heat of the balmy summer day still being leached from the pale stone even this late into the evening, warm against his bare feet. His shirt was undone at the collar and cuffs, the muggy breeze ruffling through the openings without cooling him, the hot, humid air twisting his dark hair into loose curls.

He heard a noise from the double-doors beside him and didn't need to turn to know that Hallin had walked out, pausing as he glanced about, then walking to lean companionably against the wall beside him in silence.

The heat rippling from the pale travertine tiles took Luke's mind unstoppably back to the baking deserts of his childhood, leaving him melancholy, as he often was on his return to the Imperial Palace. Strangely, he felt more completely alone here in the Palace, surrounded by people, than at any other time.

He'd been summoned to Court again, as he had been every evening since returning to Coruscant. Another massive room of nervous deference and empty lipservice, fear and fascination in every face. Everyone jostling for position to draw close to a man they didn't even know, lies on their lips and distrustful dread in their minds; they exuded it; like sweat. Terrified to be near someone they knew could kill with a thought, the only thing that could overcome their fear was their greed; their desire for power and position.  
Didn't they know- couldn't they understand that he _knew_ this of them, that they _made_ him what they feared. He didn't see their faces anymore, only their lies, and he felt no guilt about using or removing them; they'd do the same to him, given the slightest chance.

And Palpatine, always so amused at Luke's distaste, always playing his own little power games among his own sea of nervous faces….

Were they so different anymore, he and his Master? The thought chilled him; set a tense knot of restless disquiet in his stomach, jaw tightening in revulsion. The heat soothed though; took him far away, and he followed it willingly.

"Do you ever wish you could go home, Hallin?" he asked quietly without looking up.

"Do you?" Hallin asked, sliding down to a crouch on the warm stone beside him.

"No…" Luke said without conviction.

They remained quiet, comfortable in each-others presence without needing to fill the silence, watching the sun slowly sink behind distant buildings, red sky settling out to velvet night.

"I guess… sometimes I wish I could go back to that person though."

"I think you're still more that person that you realise." Hallin assured mildly.

To the edge of Hallin's vison, Luke glanced down in silence, uncomfortable as ever with even this small concession. But then they were seldom made to him, Hallin knew- especially here.

"You grew up on… Tatooine?" he prompted, hoping to draw Luke out- but he politely avoided, as he always did.

"Yes. You?"

Hallin glanced out over the encroaching dusk of the City Planet. "Here- but in Osin Province, close to the equator." He smiled, picking at a pebble embedded in a crack of the pale travertine floor. "See, I like the heat too. I'm not at all taken with this whole winter thing that they have in the Capital- I think it's highly overrated."

Luke smiled, a gentle laugh in his voice, "Yeah, I stayed on some planet in the Hoth system for a while- wasn't impressed."

Hallin frowned, "Hoth System?"

"One viable planet- just. But it's ice, too far from its sun. The surface is feet deep in snow and glaciers. I think the whole time I was there the temperature never rose above minus thirty. The novelty of snow wares off just about the same time as you step off the end of the ship's ramp and realise just how cold minus thirty actually is."

"How long did you stay?" Hallin asked.

"I don't remember." He avoided, unwilling as ever to hand out details. "Too long."

They were silent for a while, but it was a comfortable silence on both parts, Hallin knew; he was privileged to be among the very few trusted even this far.

"Mara's on her way." Hallin said into the silence; the reason he'd come out.

He knew Luke liked a little time to himself before the mindgames of Court and would never normally intrude, but Luke seemed talkative tonight in an open, informal way. Which was why Hallin felt able to ask his next question- that and the fact that nobody else would.

"May I ask- do you trust her?" he turned to study The Heir as he spoke, though Luke's eyes remained on the horizon.

"No. And neither should you."

Hallin frowned, genuinely unsure, "Then why are you with her?"

Luke left just a single hearbeat too long; "With her?"

Nathan remained silent, neither pushing for acknowledgment nor moving the conversation along, giving Luke the time to decide whether to give a little on this one. He stared out in mute silence for so long that Hallin thought he had chosen to ignore the question.

Then he sighed, glancing down, "Because I made a mistake and now I can't back out. She's a liability which I have to…"

Hallin waited, but Luke didn't finish whatever he had begun to say, so he posed another question, "Do you… care for her?"

"I'd be a fool to do that." Luke said.

"Ah but you'd be a member of a very large club, whoever your companion was. I myself have an impressive string of bad decisions under my belt. I'm an honorary lifetime affiliate."

Luke smiled into the growing shadows without looking at him, "I know."

Hallin turned, but Luke didn't offer more, eyes still on the distance, so he sighed, throwing the tiny pebble he'd dug free out before him to skitter across the pale stone. "Are we talking about the present or the past?"

"Present. The past is past." Luke said genially.

"Maybe not completely…" Hallin ventured, keeping his voice light.

When Luke didn't answer, he sighed again, mind brought to his present indiscretion. "It seemed like such a good idea at the time..." He grinned wickedly, "Actually it didn't, but nature is a powerful persuader. It doesn't care who you are or where you are or what your plans. It has its own agenda."

Luke laughed lightly, "And a loud voice." he agreed readily and Nathan smiled, scuffing at the floor with the toe of his impeccably-polished boot.

"I never understand why people always meet in the glasshouse," Luke finally said of Hallin's imminent clandestine rendezvous in one of the massive enclosed glasshouses to the rear of the Monolith roof, more properly named the Winter Gardens. Though he often accompanied Luke, Hallin's presence in Court wasn't actually required, and he'd intended to slip away tonight for a little encounter of his own.

"Because there's a gap in the security grid if you must know." He defended lightly, surprised by Luke's specific knowledge but not minding the intrusion- because it was Luke.

"Have you ever considered that it's there for a reason?" Luke said without turning.

"You're telling me they're watching the glasshouse?" Hallin asked, deadpan.

"Well it _is_ made from glass." Luke shrugged easily, "That should be some kind of clue."

"You can't see _in_ from the _outside_." Hallin argued lightly, aware that the plexiglass walls were privacy-treated, as all plexiglass was throughout the Palace. Jamming and counter-jamming devices were so prevalent in the Emperor's paranoid little world that light-based, line-of-sight imaging was the only reliable method of watching others, and privacy-treated glass ruled that out.

"No but you can see _down_ through the _roof_." Luke pointed out easily. "Have you checked all that glass is privacy-treated?"

Able to see the treated glass walls from the outside as he walked by it, it had never occurred to Hallin to check that the roof glass was also privacy-treated; he really wasn't cut out for all this vigilant, guarded living. "So basically my private life is being passed around the Palace on datachips?" Hallin said dryly after a long, considered pause.

"No, nobody knows- yet." Luke assured, "But you might want to rethink your _safe_ spot…." He paused in consideration, then; "If you need somewhere to meet outside the security fields use these rooms… when I'm not here, I hasten to add."

"Thank you," Hallin said, surprised but strangely, not embarrassed- mostly because Luke clearly wasn't. "This is my first clandestine affair." He added with mock seriousness, "I'm still learning the ropes."

"I hope that's not literal." Luke smiled, making Hallin do the same.

"So, what... should I leave a towel hanging over a chair in the hall?" Hallin joked lightly, "Or will you just… know?"

Luke smiled again, shaking his head as he looked down, "Don't even go there…."

Hallin too glanced down, amused, but when he looked up his voice was genuine, "Thank you."

Luke shook it away wordlessly.

"And I think you're changing the subject." Hallin added. When Luke glanced back across at him, Nathan set his head to one side, "Do you care for her?"

Luke hunched down and rubbed at his closed eyes, voice wry and self-effacing, "…..So do I get a membership card in this club, or something?"

Hallin laughed lightly, and they both fell to casual silence again, each considering their predicament.

"So you _do_ trust her then?" Hallin reiterated at last, looking for reassurance.

Luke looked away; wouldn't meet his eye. "No, I don't trust her. She'll… one day she'll betray me, I know that - I just don't know when."

Hallin's voice abruptly sharpened, "You're sure?"

Luke looked down without replying, enough for Hallin to know he was. "Would it be completely foolish of me to ask what you're doing with her then?"

Luke only smiled, speaking quietly and without rancour. "Oh you're one to talk."

"My partner isn't trying to kill me."

"I didn't say she'd try to kill me." Luke said quickly, but Hallin was too concerned to let this drop now.

"You said she'd betray you."

Luke glanced back to the open terrace doors behind Hallin, a subtle warning to lower his tone. The medic hushed to a whisper, though as far as he was aware there was no-one in the room- Clem, the only bodyguard on duty, stood to quiet attention in the long hallway beyond. "Well then how will she betray you?"

Luke sighed, looking out over the metropolis again, hair ruffling over his eyes in the muggy breeze.

"I don't know." He said at last, "You seldom see specifics with future events because they're still in flux, just… twists in the flow; feelings… flashes in the darkness which you can trace back to a person or an event. Not even that sometimes, just…"

He trailed to silence, having no way to describe the inexplicable.

"When?" Hallin pushed, still whispering, but Luke only smiled, amused.

"What would you like- a time of day?"

"How can you be so accurate on something as unimportant my love life as and so vague on something that's possibly life-threatening?"

Luke only turned, amusement in those mismatched eyes at his friend's close concern, "Maybe it's impenetrable for a reason."

"What does _that_ mean?" Hallin asked, then ducked down slightly, realising how loud he'd spoken.

Luke shrugged, setting his head to one side, "Some things you can't see for a reason."

"Now you're just being obscure." Hallin accused, frustration borne out of his sense of protection, Luke knew.

"Some things aren't _meant_ to be changed." Luke clarified. He hesitated a long time, considering, "I once knew a Jedi Master who said that the will of the Force is like the flow of a river; we may change its course from time to time, but it still travels to the sea."

"Very deep. I thought that the Sith had a handle on that kind of thing."

"Maybe not as much as they think." Luke said, making Hallin frown; he always said '_they'_; never '_we'_.

Hallin considered momentarily, pulling his mind back to the moment. "Perhaps Reece should be aware…"

"No." Luke paused, clearly searching for the right words without wishing to offend, "I trust Reece _absolutely_ in matters of policy. But… I feel he may be a touch less forgiving and a tad more… direct in his view of how to deal with Mara. You-" Luke paused, turning to Nathan, wry expression very open and artless and persuasive, "…I know I can trust a fellow 'club member' to give me the benefit of the doubt in dealing with my own… lapses."

"Am I so predictable?" Hallin smiled, amused at the realisation.

"Only to me." Luke said easily, "And speaking of problems, ours have arrived. And I'm not dressed for Court yet."

He pushed up and set off, walking barefoot past the run of open doors to enter the furthest, which led to his bedroom, disappearing behind the reflective, high security privacy panes of the tall plexiglass doors.

Hallin re-entered the nearest, stepping into the drawing room, surprised that there was still no-one there. Frowning, he set off out through the dining room, pausing to turn to Clem, "Are Commander Jade and Commander Reece back yet?"

The tall, broad security officer glanced to the small reader on his wrist, lifting his sleeve to do so, "Reece stopped at the Staff Office… Commander Jade is in the apartments…"

Hallin turned away and headed out with a nod, intending to go to the staff complex just inside the door to the sprawling Perlemian apartments, wondering idly just how far the corridors and hallways would stretch if he measured them all one day. The massive residence covered a complete floor of the West Tower, each of the thirty or so palatial rooms easily equalling the floorspace of a complete home- and that was the kind Hallin was used to, which was hardly underprivileged.

Learning the names of all the rooms was bad enough, never mind the layout; the Malak Gallery, the Ebony Study, the Marble Hall, the Cupola with its massive stained glass dome, backlit to appear like a skylight, the light changing to match the time of day outside. Luke actually used less than a quarter of the rooms, mostly the smaller ones… though 'smaller' was a relative term; even they were each close to the size of Hallin's complete apartment, which had itself seemed huge when the medic had first arrived.  
As everyone did, though no-one admitted to it, Hallin cut through Luke's private office to avoid the long trail through the central cupola of the extensive apartment.

Walking in from the doors at the opposite wall of the sizeable office, obviously using the same shortcut, was Mara Jade.

She glanced to him, nodding and rolling her eyes at having been caught out using this common shortcut. Unable to stop himself, everything that had just been said fresh in his mind, Hallin glowered, coming to a halt.

Mara walked calmly past… then slowed to a halt at the realisation of his glare; after a very rocky start they'd settled into a polite routine, but in the last few months that had seemed to slowly change and she had no idea as to why. As direct as ever though, realizing they were alone and in a room wich Luke routinely moved all surveillance from, she decided to find out.

"Do you have some kind of problem with me, Hallin?" she asked abruptly without turning back, hoping to knock him off-guard.

His eyes narrowed just slightly, though his voice remained very polite, accustomed as he was to the word-games here. "I hate to disappoint you Commander, but I really haven't given it that much thought.

Despite his civilized tone, Mara was speechless at his audacity considering their relative rank. "I think you should say what you have to say," She invited curtly.

To say anything would be a mistake, Hallin knew; it was _precisely_ the wrong thing to do.

But Jade turned slowly toward him, green eyes ablaze, and remembering Luke's recent admission Hallin couldn't hold back, feeling in some way responsible for the present situation; hadn't _he_ asked that she be reinstated after her failure to protect Luke from the assassination attempt? She could have been long gone by now; a distant memory. This was _his_ mistake- he'd kept her here… it was his decision Luke was having to deal with now.

"I'm watching you." He said simply.

Mara frowned, "Watching me what?"

Hallin tilted his head to one side, his eyes hard, expression caustic.

Mara remained, unfazed, "Seriously, Hallin- what do you think I'm going to do? Go Ahead?"

"Please," Hallin said dryly, "You think this gives you some hold over him?"

Mara was shocked at Hallin's implied knowledge. Did he know; had Luke confided in him? He'd always known her interest in Luke; had seemed quite indulgent of it in the past- kindred spirits, it always seemed- so what had changed?

"I'm not looking for any hold over him."

"Liar."

Mara shook her head; "Has it ever occurred to you that I may actually care about him?"

Hallin half-smiled, tone still polite and gracious even if his words were not, "How very generous of you. You put him in direct conflict with the Emperor's wishes, _knowing_ what will happen if he finds out… on the off-chance that you may _care _for him."

Apparently the gloves were off. Now it was Mara's turn to scorn, "Don't get high-handed with me- I know what you're really thinking."

"I am serving the best interests of my _friend_. What's _your_ justification?"

"I don't need to justify anything to you."

Hallin played his ace, "And the Emperor?"

Mara's heart skipped a beat at the implied threat - but she recovered impressively, "Don't even try to pull that one, because I know you wouldn't do that to Luke."

The medic said nothing but she could see mistrust boiling behind that cultured, polished manner. He could so easily stop this situation before it had a chance to develop. If she was to continue meeting Luke, then the fact was that she needed Hallin's trust. Mara took a step forward, consciously taking the sting from her voice, "I'd never hurt him, Nathan - you know that."

There was the slightest of pauses, though his cool expression softened not a whit. "Then leave."

"What?"

"Leave. If you want to help him - to protect him - leave. Request another assignment."

Mara shook her head, "I can't do that."

"Ah!... I see." He feigned polite realisation, "You _claim_ genuine concern but when you're asked to relinquish, suddenly it's no longer convenient."

Mara could only shake her head, "I don't know what you _think_ I'm doing, but I promise you I have no intention of ever hurting him."

"You already are."

Mara cracked just slightly beneath the utter conviction in his voice. "You're wrong."

"No, Commander; I'm not wrong. You'll destroy him… and deep down I think you know it - because _he_ does."

Mara twitched, disturbed by his words; even more so by the subtle revelation of their source, having no comeback to that. He turned slowly away, eyes delivering one last warning, and walked from the room. She could only watch him leave, lost in a cloud of uncertainty.

The door had slid quietly closed at the far side of the room before Mara spoke again, very quietly, "You're wrong."

.

Hallin had taken several paces past the turn in the corridor before he allowed his composure to slip just slightly, his step faltering though he kept walking, aware that he was in sight of the surveillance lenses now.

Was she telling the truth - did she really care? And did it matter anyway, given Luke's prediction.

What Hallin _did _know was that Jade was Palpatine's agent; his informer. She was, _by definition_, Luke's sworn enemy. Whatever else she thought she felt, her true loyalties were clear; she reported to the Emperor every few days, like clockwork. That was her job; it was why she was here. She had informed on Luke's actions in the past, knowing what the severe consequences would be, and yet she claimed that she would never hurt him… how could he believe that she would do any differently now?

Given Luke's admissionn it was surely more likely that she was lying, manipulating him to some pre-arranged plan. And even if she wasn't, there was still a dangerous truth to Hallin's words; she _was_ playing with fire- and she _was_ persuading Luke to do the same.

.

.

.

Unsettled, Mara made a conscious effort to avoid being alone with Hallin over the coming weeks. His wary enmity didn't seem to wane but she grew used to it; it was after all, just one more obstacle in a whole galaxy of them, and hardly her greatest problem when she and Luke were here at the Palace.

Still, his words had bitten deep- deep enough to make her wonder again at her split loyalties; or were they that at all? She had after all never hidden from Luke the fact that her allegiance lay with the Emperor. The time they spent together was completely separate to that in her mind; a self-contained reality which required no closer scrutiny.

Certainly Luke seemed to consider it the same. Aside from that single, explosive argument onboard the Peerless, by some unspoken pact neither ever mentioned anything of the real world or its demands when they were together. Nothing ever encroached, the realities of their situation never mentioned, either in terms of their reckless liaisons or their split loyalties. Ignorance was bliss, and in the absence of any opposing allusions from Luke, it was all too easy to persuade herself that the loyalties of the man whom she now regarded as very much a kindred spirit would be no different to her own.

Yes, Luke argued and challenged and occasionally even squared off against the Emperor, but he was still here, and even though Palpatine was a master of manipulation, Luke was one of the most obstinate, wilful, intractable people she had ever met, and if he didn't want to be here he would be long gone. _Something_ was holding him here.

The weeks went by excruciatingly slowly when she was here in the Palace now, her mind always drifting back to the relative freedom they enjoyed when safely away aboard the Peerless. Here, there was no closeness save in stolen glances and momentary contact hidden beneath accidental touches as they passed each-other or walked side by side.

But she knew that soon they'd be gone again. The Invincible's launch, the reason they were here, was imminent now. Just two weeks and they'd be free again, taking the new Super Star Destroyer on its shakedown voyage to the shipyards in the Farlax Sector, weeks, perhaps even months of refinement requiring an extended stay free of the stifling surveillance on Coruscant.

So now Mara was counting down the days, wondering if Luke was doing the same. She studied him now as he worked at the table in his drawing room, a number of readers and datachips scattered across it. The table was before the long bank of plexiglass doors which led out onto the balcony, the long spell of muggy weather which Coruscant always endured in the summer making Mara uncomfortable though it never seemed to bother Luke- in fact he seemed to enjoy it, opening all doors and windows to the heat, rendering the air conditioning useless.

Mara was sitting to the rear of the huge room, where it still held some sway, when Reece knocked quietly at the quarter-open door, eyes discreetly down as he entered from the dining room beyond, prompting Mara to wonder if he suspected too - that could be dangerous; he was an agent here reporting to Saté Pestage and therefore the Emperor, just as she was.

"Excuse me, Sir- Lord Vader is in the antechamber to the Stateroom; he… insists an audience."

Luke was already rising as Reece entered, turning off his automemo in preparation, Mara realized, "Did you know he was here?"

He didn't reply, turning instead to Reece, "Thank-you Wez. I'll see him in here."

Reece bowed his head as he retreated, the heavy double-doors sliding silently shut on their smooth mechanism.

"Luke- did you know he was here?" Mara repeated.

"Yes," he said without elucidating.

"Why are you seeing him here?" There were any number of dedicated receiving rooms in his extensive apartments, ranging from the luxurious and welcoming to the cavernous and stately- why would he let Vader of all people into his private rooms?

He turned to her without speaking, the inference clear, but Reece re-entered the room, curtailing further argument on either side, Vader only a step behind him.

"Lord Vader, Sir." Reece announced formally, before bowing and backstepping a neat retreat from the room at a nod from Luke.

Luke remained silent before the hulking form of Darth Vader, as unintimidated as he had always been. When Vader didn't speak, he finally sighed and looked away, as if boring already of an old game, "You have something you wish to say, Lord Vader."

Mara had never in all the time she had been with Luke heard him refer to his father by anything other than his title. Even in private like this, distance was always maintained between them.

Vader remained silent, turning slowly to Mara, who lifted her own chin in defiance; whatever frustrations she felt against Luke were instantly lost beneath her protective instinct for him now, automatically closing ranks before an outside threat.

"Mara?" Luke invited without turning, and she let out a sigh of her own before rising to leave, pausing to turn and bow at the door, holding Luke's eye a moment too long, expression questioning. He nodded imperceptibly and she backstepped, the doors sliding shut before her.

Both men remained silent for long moments, waiting…

Finally, feeling the need to break the silence, Vader spoke, "I came to deliver the final breakdown of the Fleet which will attend the launch of the Invincible."

"Could you not send this by courier?" Luke asked distantly, eyes still on the door.

"No- the information is restricted at the Emperor's command." Vader replied easily, also waiting, filling the gap with mindless words.

"I see. How many Destroyers?"

"Fourteen, excluding the Executor. They will arrive over the next eight days and take up positions about the Polar South Deep Orbit Station…"

Finally Luke turned from the door to look at his father, both men relaxing just slightly. "You've picked them carefully?" His manner changed abruptly as he stepped forward, voice lowering, tone relaxing now that he was sure that Mara had left the adjacent room.

"Yes. Two are already loyal, ten could potentially be persuaded and two are faithful to the Emperor, to belay any suspicion."

Vader had already arranged with his son to begin reassignment of loyal and potentially loyal military supporters, and the pomp and ceremony that accompanied the launch of a new Flagship would enable him to briefly recall many high-ranking officers whom Luke seldom had the opportunity to meet in the Core Systems.

The Invincible's inaugural celebration would be held on the night of the launch in the State Ballroom, a massive venue in which, with a little carefully-laid interference, would enable Luke to make subtle personal petitions and form the foundations of alliances in return for certain guarantees.

It would be difficult to achieve under the noses of Palpatine's spies and the Emperor himself, but the boy had proved surprisingly adept, forming alliances and collaborations in a way which Vader never could, his forthright but not overbearing command style making him popular among the military, seeming approachable and trustworthy even in this.

Now he nodded, taking the small datachip Vader proffered and loading it into a reader on the table, attention centred on memorising names and images as they appeared. He expressed no trepidation at the thought of the task presented to him, simply concentrating, learning names, briefly discussing strategies based on the information provided, throwing out considered snippets as to the individual person's family or background which would have to be taken into account.

He had become so completely naturalised to this environment now, Vader noted, the fact that this would be a reception of hundreds of the galaxy's leading figures in the ostentatious grandeur and outrageous, extravagant excess of the mirror-lined gallery and the cavernous State Ballroom of less relevance than the knowledge that within the mirrors and the crowds, many ears would be listening and few of them innocently.

Luke narrowed his eyes, voicing the opinion that he shouldn't mention Captain Dorrin's potential involvement to Captain Lain, the two Star Destroyer Captains maintaining long-standing enmity due to their respective Family Houses, situated on two planets within the Stenness Node and held from all-out war only by the presence of the Empire within their system, citing a constant undercurrent of bickering and rivalries between the two Houses within Court.

Vader nodded silent agreement in this and other points, aware for the first time how much the Emperor had been quietly grooming the boy for Command- forcing him to deal with constant obstructions and hindrances; to look for other means, other methods and manoeuvres. To learn all these subtle ploys and traps simply so that he could avoid or dismiss them- but to learn them all the same, now equally at home with both the driving ambitions and broad powerplays of the military elite or the elaborate scheming and subtle, petty machinations of Court, where Vader had always been uneasy.

When Luke was satisfied that he had a working knowledge of the information, he flicked slowly through the images one last time, then blanked datachip's memory, returning it to his father.

"We should bring this to a close; you've been here some time."

He chose not to mention the planned attack on the Invincible to his father, seeing no specific benefit in doing so. Firstly because he knew his father would automatically resent allowing the Rebels to make this attempt on Imperial sovereignty and Luke didn't particularly want to be placed in a situation in which he was forced to defend the Rebellion as a consequence of that, knowing that his father would believe Luke's loyalties to be split, and secondly because he didn't need his father's aid or input in this. Vader would have his own view and it would be strongly held and much as he wanted to, Luke didn't believe his father could be trusted _not_ to take this to Palpatine simply to head off Luke's interaction with the Rebels.

Beside, his decision was made even if, as in this case, it was simply that the best course of action was to wait and see; this was a rare occasion when it was more advantageous to be reactive than proactive.

Vader held his son's eye momentarily, aware that there was something more but believing it simply his anticipation of the task in hand, then nodded, taking the blank chip and concealing it in the folds of his clothes, reaching out beyond the room with the Force-

"She is growing suspicious." He said, voice very sure- but then it always was.

"Only of this, today."

Vader sighed, and Luke braced himself, waiting for the criticism which, despite everything, he had known would come. It was dispensed in an unexpected form; "A short recording came into my hands a month ago from a dealer on Bilbringi. I bought and destroyed it."

Luke remained silent, eyes wary, hardly noticing the rasping breath of the life-support that his father wore anymore, so familiar-a sound had it become. Vader continued after a long pause, sure that he had the boy's attention now. "It showed you stepping off from the edge of the balcony behind you. Mara Jade caught you."

Luke considered a long time, eyes down, and Vader was left to wonder if he was deciding whether to tell the truth or whether to tell him anything at all.

"I was testing a theory." Luke allowed at last without meeting his father's featureless gaze.

Vader set his head to one side, "That being?" he prompted, when the boy offered nothing more.

Luke shrugged casually, "Just a theory." he avoided.

"With Jade, apparently." Vader growled, his distaste evident.

His son looked up at this, a warning flashing momentarily in his mismatched eyes, then he turned away to the tall windows to watch the darkening, storm-heavy sky.

Vader remained still, frustrated as much at his own stubbornness as his son's- so when the boy spoke his words were surprising.

"Say it." Luke finally invited, knowing this was something his father wished to address.

"You will do as you wish regardless." Vader said, very sure.

"Yes." Luke replied, half-turning back to his father, "But I'll take what you have to say under advisement."

"She is dangerous." Vader didn't hesitate- he seldom did anyway and in this he was very sure; "She will always remain loyal to the Emperor and _cannot_ be trusted… theoretical tests aside."

Luke tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, "I know – and I wasn't testing that."

He offered nothing more as he turned back to the brewing storm.

Vader tried a different tack, "Palpatine is using her to control you."

"I know that too." his son replied, "I'm not blind."

"But you are allowing it." Vader warned; it was tantamount to the same thing- worse, because the boy allowed it knowingly; willingly.

Luke folded his arms, but when he spoke, his tone remained open, "Give me an option- a viable one."

Vader didn't hesitate, "Remove her."

"And then what?"

Wasn't that obvious? "That problem will also be removed."

Luke turned, tone and sense resolute. "Then she'll be replaced and I'll have to learn the operating procedures of another 'watcher'. Discover a whole new set of strengths and weaknesses and habits- four years of familiarity and knowledge wasted. No- better the devil you know."

"You're allowing her too close." Vader maintained.

His son shrugged, "I can control her. She believes she's close and she passes that confidence on to Palpatine."

"You _think_ you can control her," Vader corrected, "You have no proof. She will _always_ be loyal to the Emperor."

"I know. But whilst she's close to me I can control exactly what information she is and isn't party to so I know exactly what information she's passing on to the Emperor- what he's reacting to and why. He trusts her implicitly- which is a weakness on his part."

"And you?" Vader asked

"I don't trust her at all." Luke said, wondering how much his father really knew and how much was his own guilty conscience.

"That is not what I asked."

Luke turned to his father, wary. Because no matter what he said out loud, if Vader thought Luke and Mara were too close, he feared he'd find some way to remove her. "She's not a weakness because I won't allow her to be. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"See that you don't." Vader charged, tone little short of a command.

Luke's eyes narrowed at that, offended as much on Mara' behalf as his own, "_Don't_ order me."

"Don't leave yourself open to criticism." Vader reproached.

"You of all people should think carefully before saying that."

The words had left his mouth before he'd even considered them, goaded by his father's self-righteous tone. Even now, knowing the damage they'd done, Luke couldn't back down because he knew his father too well to think that his silence now constituted any kind of agreement. "And just to be clear- if something were to _happen_ to Mara Jade, all deals would be off the table- understand that."

It was, Luke knew, an admission of at least partial vulnerability on his part, but it had to be said otherwise his father would move against her based solely on what had already been said. "Mara jade isn't your concern."

"No- but you are." His father parried without hesitation.

Was it a manipulation or was it real? His father remained a closed book to Luke, his true intent hidden. He wanted to believe that Vader's words were were spoken out of genuine concern, but he knew him too well; it was at least partly a protection of his investment. Vader still believed absolutely that he knew what was best for Luke, and in typical heavy-handed fashion, would do whatever he conceived of as necessary to keep his son, and therefore his investment, on track. There was no contradiction; they were one and the same to him.

Luke turned away, uneasy, never knowing quite how to react to such asides from his father. "I can look after myself."

"You'll forgive me," his father said dryly, "If I _don't_ take that under advisement."

.

.

Mara stepped out to watch Vader pass on hearing his heavy footfalls in the corridor beyond the heavy double-doors of Luke's day office. He glanced once to her in obvious distaste, but didn't pause, a flurry of dark robes against the bone-white travertine tiles of the long corridor. Although it shared part of a wall with his private drawing room, Mara had been able to hear nothing from the day-office save the rise and fall of their voices as they spoke, the deeply-plastered half-curve at the adjoining wall insulating the noise.

It wasn't in her remit to watch Vader, but Luke's position within the Emperor's elite was more stable and trusted than ever before, and she didn't want Vader to endanger that with his own petty schemes. She'd been tempted to put a trembler on the wall to see if it clarified anything, but some tiny fragment of faded morals left her reluctant to resort to such tactics with Luke anymore, despite burning curiosity and professional concern.

Luke's strained relationship with his father was something the Emperor relied heavily on to maintain the manageable status-quo between his two acolytes and therefore his own security. It _always_ had to be maintained, he had made that quite clear. The slightest relaxing of enmity invoked the most _serious_ measures in response, always aimed at Luke- unfairly in Mara's mind; but then she'd long ago learned that life was seldom fair. Luke's willingness to flaunt that fact at his own expense was a more recent but equally disturbing discovery, firing protective instincts and outrageous frustration in equal measure.

When she returned to Luke, he was stood close to the tall plexiglass doors, arms wrapped about himself, watching the distant storm as lightening forking over the city's horizon, briefly lighting the dark, low clouds whilst thunder rumbled ever closer, charging the humid air.

Mara walked silently up beside him, reaching out to close the open doors to the balcony.

"No leave them open." Luke said quietly, lost in thought.

"Why?"

"I want to hear the storm." he murmured, distant and distracted. "It's always the same sound on every planet- no matter what the colour of the sky or what landscape below- have you noticed that?"

She frowned, glancing out at the rolling clouds, a sheet of rain visible rolling over the city now, sweeping toward the Palace. Lightening forked again, closer, making Mara flinch, "You should step back."

"Why?"

"There's a chance you can get hit by the lightening."

He turned away, dismissive, head on one side as his eyes remained on the closing storm, the sky overhead dark now, the thunder a constant bass rumble vibrating through her chest.

"I like the storm." He said at last, still withdrawn and contemplative, "We used to have them on Tatooine."

A massive rumble split the sky, making him smile as two forks of lightening came down in perfect unison.

Mara stepped back, curious. "Rainstorms?"

"Once every five or six years. You could feel it building for weeks before- like a charge in the air. Then the storm would just… explode overhead and the skies would open. Raindrops so big you could hold out your hand and five or ten drops would fill your palm. You could drink water from the sky, still stood in the desert."

Mara was transfixed by the intensity of the memory he recounted, his words barely a whisper. "I didn't know."

He nodded, looking up as the lightening forked again, grinning into the fury of the storm, "Maybe four or five hours, that's all. But it was just… unbelievable - a solid sheet of water. Sometimes, if it'd been really hot beforehand and the stone was warm, you could hear the canyon walls pop and crack in the deluge. You'd see huge chunks shear off the rock face…"

"It must have been amazing."

"It was nature in the raw- incredible. There was water everywhere - so much that it pooled on the ground in places; if you went up to the stone rifts, it would actually sit on the surface of the ground… it changed the shape of the dunes- bluffs that had been there for months were gone overnight, beaten away to nothing in a matter of hours. Then by the next morning the Piri were out."

"Piri?" Another grating rumble vibrated through the room, slicing the air, incredible in its power.

"They're little blue flowers- tiny. They come out only when the rain comes, for just a day or so, then they're gone. Bright, azure blue. At dawn, there'd be a mist over the dunes, like low cloud, then when it burned off the piri were there- millions of them. Your whole world is changed - everything you know so well is carpeted with this incredible rush of colour and all the dust and the grit is gone. There's a place close to where I used to live called the Dune Sea. Offworlders and people who don't know the desert think it's because of the sand dunes, but it's because once every five years, when the rains come, it's filled with the densest mat of piri and it looks… it looks just like a deep blue sea. The piri-covered dunes look like an ocean and everything's moving, rolling in the wind, like ocean waves. Just for a day, there's a sea in the desert."

She studied him, enthralled; watched his face lifted to the fury of the storm and wondered whether the incredible piri could ever compare to the blue of his eyes…

He still held his arms wrapped about him, the rising wind whipping his hair up, tousling it. "Sandpeople - Tusken Raiders - they judge their age by how many times they've seen the storms."

The first drops of rain began to fall on the dry, pale stone of the balcony, leaving large, dark roundels where it hit. Luke glanced down, watching them multiply until they began to merge, "I wonder if my father ever saw it."

_My father..._ Mara frowned; "Was he… did he grow up there?"

"Yes. His mother's grave was just outside the farmstead I grew up on." Luke answered her unspoken question before it had formed in her thoughts, for once allowing some small part of his past to be seen- more than she had ever known before. "I thought he was a navigator on a freighter. They told me he was long dead."

Mara felt her heart crumple at the raw emotion which he tried so hard to hide behind that casual, distant tone, his eyes still on the sheeting rain, the skies rumbling ominously.

"Is there… nothing to salvage between you?" She knew this wasn't what the Emperor wanted, but the veiled pain in his voice made her ask anyway - how could she not?

He leaned back against the door frame, eyes lowered. "I don't know. How could I trust him- ever?"

"Is trust necessary?" she pushed.

He shook his head, remaining silent for a long time. It was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him, torn by doubts and desires.

"I thought I wanted to kill him. When I first… when I saw him again after… after Palpatine." He shook his head, the sky beyond the window lighting up momentarily about him, the storm directly overhead, "I had lost everything and it was his fault. He could have helped me… so many times he could have helped me… and I couldn't understand why he didn't. I should have- I knew by then what Palpatine could do, how he could twist everything to suit himself. How he could warp your mind and tie you down. But I thought everything was Vader's fault- all I knew was that I wanted revenge. I wanted to show him that I wasn't weak and couldn't be used by him again. Wouldn't be."

The rain was torrential now, almost drowning out his quiet words, the chill which trickled over Mara's skin part reaction to the storm and part empathy for her lover.

"I thought I wanted to kill him- I was _so sure_."

"But Palpatine stopped you." The rain suddenly thinned to nothing as she spoke, the skies stilling as the eye of the storm passed overhead, the air electric.

"No, Palpatine didn't stop me. I went in there intending to kill him despite Palpatine's order. Nothing he said- _nothing_- made the slightest difference in that moment."

Mara blinked. "Then…?"

"I didn't kill him because….. I couldn't. In that moment, when I had the power, when I held the saber up…" Luke shook his head, sliding slowly down against the edge of the doorframe until he hunched in a huddled crouch, arms wrapped about himself, lost in the memory. "I couldn't kill him. I couldn't kill my own father - how could I? No matter what, how could I?"

Mara's stomach constricted at that; at the incredible, far-reaching implications. Palpatine had hung his control of Luke on the fact that he had broken that link between father and son. On the fact that he held the power to constrain and contain Skywalker even in the heat of battle, even when his fallen Jedi wanted- _needed_ to kill…

But this… this meant he had nowhere near the control he believed over Skywalker.

_This meant everything he'd built after that point had been based on a lie!_

A massive crash of thunder ripped the sky open, rain pouring in a solid curtain again, Mara's world, her life, everything turned upside down by this one admission.

Every fibre of her being told her to run - run to her master and tell him the truth; that Skywalker was a threat, a danger.

The lightening flashed, blinding, and just for a moment… for that instant, Mara saw in the hunched, dark-clothed figure silhouetted against the roiling sky something wild and portentous, a momentary image from a vision long ago when the Rebel pilot had first been imprisoned in the Palace; when he had first flexed his mental muscles and thrown the Force against the reinforced, monofibre-threaded windows, shattering them to a thousand crazed shards. She remembered the wolf from her vision, hunched and brooding, sitting out the storm, waiting his chance…

But something else pulled at her heart and her soul now and held her to a torn, indecisive stillness. How could she - how could she betray him?

Yes, he was a wolf… but he was _her_ wolf. He was wild and unpredictable and capricious but he was _hers_…

He turned, hair whipping about his face as the warm wind drove the storm past overhead, the rain trailing to drizzle now, distant shafts of brilliant sunlight lancing through the darkness.

"Mara?" he asked, uncertain, sensing the change in her, as sudden as the storm.

She stared at him for long seconds, not even a breath disturbing the stifling, storm-heavy stillness…

Then she smiled, stepping forward, and he stood to wrap his arms about her, blanketing all those fractured doubts and loyalties, Mara allowing the warmth of his close body to push them from her mind.

"Storm's over." she murmured, as the first bright breaks in the cloud reached the gardens far below.

He only frowned, uneasy. "There'll be others."


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

The day of the inaugural flight was warm and close, Luke rising early, having last minute arrangements to make. He had travelled up to the Peerless every morning for the last three days, ostensibly to finalise details for the Invincible's arrival, intending to make it a routine so that when he did so this morning, it wouldn't seem out of place.

Reece met him at the landing platform, Hallin having been left onboard the Peerless two days earlier on the pretext of packing his personal equipment in the medicentre there in preparation for his move to the Invincible with the rest of The Heir's Command Crew, all of whom would be making the move with him- if he couldn't rely on the ship, then Luke intended to at least be able to trust those around him.

Reece was to remain on the Peerless today, to oversee details of the changeover of Command, Luke leaving word for Mara that he would return to Coruscant by mid-morning as he had done the last few days.

When he arrived back at the Palace, the Lambda shuttle to take him up to the Invincible was already waiting, Mara stood a short distance away, hand shading her eyes from the midday sun.

Luke remained quiet on the shuttle, aware of Mara's eyes on him but not acknowledging her, mind elsewhere; on the Invincible, on the planned attack - he knew how many there would be onboard but not where, and he knew they were heading for the lower Ops room which served as Bridge backup in the event of system failures.

Should he help them- clear the way a little, thin the number of guards? No; if they didn't succeed then there would be an enquiry and he needed to remain completely untouchable.

"Luke!" Mara said sharply, her tone that of someone who was repeating themselves.

"Hm?"

Mara leaned in so that her hushed whisper could be heard by him without being overheard by the pilots in the cockpit to the front of the shuttle, no privacy even here. "What's wrong with you today? Your head's on the other side of the galaxy- it has been since you got in this shuttle."

"I just don't like these things Mara- you know that." Uncomfortable that she could read him so well now he looked away, attention drawn back to the impressive hulk of the Invincible, ignoring Mara's intent look.

"You know, you used to smile so much when you first came here." she said.

Luke frowned, turning. "What?"

"You used to smile. Even though you had nothing to smile about you used to do it anyway. I always remember that; you used to talk and laugh and joke and tease. You used to call me Red - remember? I was always amazed at your… tenacity. Your refusal to be intimidated, to be hushed by that massive, overbearing Palace. Everybody goes around whispering there; it makes people feel small."

He glanced away uneasily, "It's only stones and mortar."

"But you don't smile anymore." Mara continued. "You don't laugh. I loved your laugh; it had heart. No side; no deceit or pretence, just…"

She shook her head, more disillusioned than frustrated.

Luke watched her impassively for several seconds then turned away, trying to bring his concentration back to the imminent attack, but the disruption was lodged now and he couldn't ignore it - or, for some reason, the disappoint in Mara's voice.

"I laugh." he said at last, very quietly.

"When?"

"Every time you try to do an infinity loop with a lightsaber for one," he said lightly, his voice just loud enough for her to hear, leaning in slightly as if to nudge her with his shoulder though the space between the wide, heavily-upholstered seats they sat side by side in prevented it.

"Thanks." She said wryly, rolling her eyes, but he could sense her mood lighten a little.

They remained silent for a while, Mara's head lowered again, lost in her own thoughts now.

Eventually Luke's hand, resting on the armrest beside hers, reached across just slightly, his little finger entwining around hers, lifting her head in surprise, her eyes going first to the pilots in the open cockpit in front of them and then to Luke, taken aback. Even this tiny act of intimacy was an incredible risk in public, and the fact that he had initiated it rolled through her like a warm breeze, melting all her doubts, completely beguiling her. How could he do that?

He held her eyes for long seconds, then turned to look forward to the cockpit of the shuttle and the two pilots there to check that they weren't being watched. But he kept his hand resting against hers, fingers gently entwined, aware of her eyes on him, of the change in her sense, like a cloud passing.

"Invincible…" Luke said at last, breaking the long silence, his eyes on the looming hulk of the massive Super Star Destroyer. "Bit of a contentious name."

Mara finally turned, glancing to the pilots, quickly pulling her wits about her, realising his words were for them. "You know Palpatine. He's always has a taste for the theatrical."

"Still…" He was aware of her finger trailing delicately against his, the act both playful and intensely alluring.

"Your old one isn't too bad." She said neutrally, eyes ahead.

"Peerless?" Luke paused without thought, attention focused on her hand against his own, eyes on the pilots. "No, I suppose not. Quite mild, really, by Imperial standards. Pity I can't keep the name."

"Maybe you should ask him if you can name the next one- he seems intent on giving them all to you anyway." Mara said, dryly flirtatious, eyes on the new Destroyer, which loomed so large now as to fill the viewscreen.

He smiled just slightly, the action pulling at the long scar down his face, the act incredibly appealing to Mara; she had never disliked the scar - remembered intensely the feel of it against her lips.

"Maybe the… 'Hissy Fit'." he said in mocking tones, "Or the 'Little Tantrum'."

She laughed lightly, "Very funny."

"Or how about the, 'Don't Worry about it- I'll Let You off with a Warning this Time'. Too long?"

"Well I can't see it striking fear into the heart of beings everywhere." She said, eyes remaining on the scar through his lips, longing to touch it.

"No, that would have to be the 'Mara Jade on an Off Day'."

"Thanks."

He squeezed her hand in reassurance and she smiled again, looking forward, though her full attention remained focused on him, and she knew he would know that.

They remained silent, fingers trailing against each-others, light as a shiver yet utterly enthralling.

"I don't think you'd even need anybody on that one… except you of course. Maybe I should suggest it to the Emperor."

"I think Palpatine may be looking for a _few_ more security crew." Mara joked in kind, "You should see the amount of plain-clothes troopers and Red Guard he's sent up to the Invincible with the 'techs in the last few days."

Luke's hand froze an instant - then began moving again, a subtle shadow passing his eyes and hardening them, though his voice remained deceptively casual, "Really- how many?"

"I don't know - easily a couple of hundred, I'd figure."

Luke made himself breathe, forcing an indifferent tone. "Strange- they're not on the ship's log."

"No," Mara glanced to him, but looked away, reassured when he smiled just slightly. "They were kind of hidden in among the workers. But they're up there somewhere, on the Invincible. I have no idea where he's putting them though, because there's an awful lot of them and I don't think any have come back yet."

Luke nodded slowly, eyes on the looming, ominous bulk of the Super Star Destroyer, "Perhaps it was his Honour Guard; maybe they went up a day early."

Mara agreed casually, only mildly interested, "Possible. I thought I saw his personal guard go up last night though - and the bulk are set to go up today on his shuttle and its escorts..."

.

Luke heard little after that, mind racing, so that he didn't even recall the shuttle landing in the massive Main Bay of the Invincible. Didn't remember walking past regimented rows of perfectly-turned out stormtroopers, nor nodding distantly when Palpatine's favoured dignitaries and Moffs were presented when he reached the Command Deck of the wide bridge, the two mirror-image Ops Pits milling with nervous officers. Everything was done on autopilot, thoughts buzzing, stirred to a frenzy by one fact;

_He knew_. Palpatine _knew_ that an attack was imminent and had prepared for it.

Why exactly he had chosen to do let it go ahead Luke didn't know; he must have his reasons. At this moment, it was a moot point- all that mattered was that he knew.

And chances were, if he knew when, then he probably knew how - which meant that even if the Command Codes _appeared_ to work, there must already be some override in place, hidden within the system.

Perhaps Olin'yaa had broken after all; or had his Master managed to place a new spy within the Rebellion already? The latter was a serious complication, because Luke knew it placed his own spy Argot at risk. Another complication occurred, chilling in its implications; could Palpatine know that Luke also knew? Was this a test for him too? His Master loved to test the loyalty of those around him and this was just the kind of convoluted game he would play…

Luke considered carefully, from every angle, calming rushing thoughts, trying to see clearly, free from his Master's painstakingly-instilled propaganda and paranoia.

No- contrary to the image Palpatine liked to project, he wasn't all-seeing or all-knowing; there was no possible connection between Luke and the attack, no way prove his knowledge, except possibly through Luke's own source within the Rebellion, a contact which he'd long admitted to Palpatine but never identified. Due to the secrecy of the mission, there was no guarantee that Argot would know about the planned attack at all; since Palpatine didn't know who Luke's agent was, it could logically be assumed that this was something she had not been high enough up the ladder to be privy to.

In fact with some careful management it could actually take a little of the heat off her if Palpatine had placed his own spy, charged with revealing and closing down Luke's source.

All of which was immaterial right now; all that mattered was his reaction today; to assist or impede.

The assembled dignitaries were brought to order, Luke politely guided to the head of the assemblage, Mara always in his shadow - did she know something was wrong?

Aware of his extended silence, Luke turned, giving a brief, tight smile before the Emperor entered the room, silencing it by his presence, walking to the head of the bowing assembly, Luke automatically stepping smoothly down to one knee without making eye contact, his mind still racing, aware of his Master's eyes on him.

Was he waiting? Was he waiting for an admission from Luke?

It would of course be a mistake to suddenly claim knowledge; Palpatine would know Luke had worked it out and adjusted his own actions accordingly. Which meant that all Luke could do was to brazen this out…

He had to stay; he had to stay on the Bridge until the attack took place and react to it as if it were from any unknown outside threat - which meant that when the moment came, he had to shut it down decisively. The Rebels' lives were forfeit anyway, whoever they were; there was nothing Luke could do to help them now. Better a quick death at his hands than days at the mercy of Palpatine's pitiless outrage.

Beladon D'Arca, as Master of Ceremonies, began his speech, performing a neat, careful bow to the Emperor then to Luke as he acknowledged them firstly and separately, before the privileged, select group attending in person the official launch of the Destroyer.

"Excellency; Sir; Gentlemen- welcome onboard the new flagship. Not just of the Core Fleet but of the whole Empire. You are now standing aboard the most technologically advanced ship in the galaxy, ushering in a new age of Imperial superiority…"

Luke didn't even hear the voice let alone the words, eyes fixed on the man without seeing, mind racing to figure this through…

Yes; the lives of the Rebel strike team onboard were already forefit- they just didn't know it yet. Whatever they did, whatever _he_ did, they were dead. The first rule of sabacc; don't get pot-committed. If he tried to help them, hoping to give them some chance to redeem a plan which was now essentially flawed, then he risked implication, at best as a collaborator, at worst as the instigator, either option carrying severe punishment. For anyone else it would be death; for Luke-

No, Palpatine wouldn't kill his prized _Jedi_, but he would take him apart, break him to pieces just as he had done that very first time. Luke would be returned to that cell, as if the last four years had never happened.

All his work, all his sacrifices for nothing.

Begin again - only harder, because Palpatine would _never_ trust again. Wouldn't ever let his precious Jedi out of his sight. Luke's mind buzzed in persecution at the thought of his time in the cell, the memories still intense, entwined about his every waking thought even after all this time- enough to set a barbed rush to crush his chest, jaw locked, eyes staring at nothing, oblivious to the polished, gracious ceremony taking place around him.

No; he couldn't do that, not again. And he wouldn't do it- not for a group of people who were hoping to bring him down at the same time as the Emperor; kill two birds with one stone.

That was the truth of it- that was the extent of their consideration for him… and therefore the extent of his consideration for them.

Whatever they thought they _could_ achieve, he _would_ achieve- not with fireworks and fanfares like this, but slowly, quietly, behind the scenes.

Plans within plans.

Yes- that was the best course of action; if he went after them himself today, then it would at least demonstrate that he had no part in the plot. If he removed them then at least it would be a quick death- they would be spared his Master's wraith and more importantly they couldn't be interrogated. There was no connection to reveal of course, but it was better to be sure. And if he couldn't, if he was ordered to stand down… well then he owed them nothing…

The distant drone of the Master of Ceremonies filtered through the edge of Luke's thoughts, the moment of action coming ever closer, tingeing the Force with portent, charging the air, tensing his muscles-

"…. is set to become not just the flagship of the Fleet, but the flagship of the Heir to the Empire, and if the past is any indication, we can be confident that under his accomplished command it will enjoy more than its fair share of action."

A polite ripple of laughter rolled around the Bridge at the last, Luke glancing back to the assemblage, having missed completely whatever banality D'Arca had spoken. Clenching his jaw, he allowed a tight smile, senses afire...

... _NOW!_

The lights fluttered just briefly… then the heavy blast doors onto the Bridge slid closed, the massive central lock engaging. Along the corridor beyond, the muted sound of multiple sets of armoured doors all locking in quick succession rumbled back onto the Bridge.

The speaker frowned, hesitating…

At the corner of Luke's vision in the Ops pit, an officer was toggling controls on a console, trying unsuccessfully to open the doors again.

_It's starting…  
__Wait a few seconds; don't react too quickly._

The Duty Officer looked up from the pit, eyes meeting Luke's as he stepped forward, addressing the officer, "Open the doors!"

"Sir, there seems to…"

"_OPEN THE DOORS!"_ Luke shouted as he set forward past the man. No matter what happened, one thing he didn't want to be was on the Bridge.

Red Guard, previously inconspicuous at the corners of the vast bridge, now stepped forward with military precision, circling quickly about the Emperor so that Luke had to step between them to move forward to the doors, still firmly locked. Several unknown officers in the Command Pits had produced blasters from no-where.

Adrenaline pumping, Luke reached into the Force when he was six paces away, his hand rising… it answered in an eager rush, a burst of potential and power-

With a rending screech, the mechanism jolted just slightly, the massive central lock taking the strain of the impact with a spray of vivid sparks, Red Guard turning to the door in shock, weapons raised, not realising that it was The Heir who did this-

Luke let out a yell, hand thrown out, and the bulky inset lock mechanism designed to withstand vacuum and explosion gave another grinding _whump_, the substantial circular bolt mechanism to the centre of the blast doors jolting, a gush of bright, actinic sparks erupting, leaving the acrid smell of burnt resistors and insulation, a curl of smoke rising.

Released adrenaline gave Luke the focus to throw another sustained burst of raw power at the massive bulk of the central bolt and this time it failed completely in a grating rasp of rending plassteel, a meter-wide gap opened in the doors as the alloy of the lock was literally ripped apart, shredding in a shriek of ruptured metal, the heavy doors rammed back into their housing with enough force to crumple the surrounding walls in a grinding screech of ruined plassteel.

Luke walked from the bridge without having slowed his step, pausing only when the Emperor called to him.

"Jedi- bring me one alive."

.

Palpatine watched his Wolf nod just once, wonderful eyes as cold and hard as ice in darkness, then he was gone, leaving the Emperor to smile indulgently, bloodless lips drawn back over spoiled teeth. He glanced about the assemblage, faces pale with shock at what they had just seen.  
They all _thought_ they knew what a Sith was capable of - now they had received, in some small measure, a demonstration of such. They would remember it for a long time, the same thought so clearly running through every mind present in the shocked silence which followed; if this was what he did to unyielding plassteel and reinforced organic steel - what would he do to flesh and bone?

Palpatine took several moments to bask in the stunned surge of genuine fear, his own eyes brought approvingly back to the shattered entrance.

Then he turned with unhurried, assured calm to Admiral Joss, "Admiral; I have a code which you need to input immediately…"

.

Luke was halfway down the main corridor, having cleared a second set of locked blast doors, when the rest opened in sequence before him, confirming his suspicion; Palpatine had another Override Code.

He reached out into the Force to confirm where the Rebels were, knowing that even though there would be a plethora of anxious minds onboard ship the Call to Quarters hadn't yet been sounded, so the only ones who would be genuinely nervous _should_ be the Rebels.

If they'd followed the plan, they would be in Ops Three by now or…

His easy, measured run faltered and he slowed almost to a stop, feeling a weight of heavy pressure push against his chest at the realisation of who was there…

Swearing a curse under his breath, he set forward again at full-tilt, mind racing.

Everything- _everything_ had changed again.

.

By the time that Mara rounded the crook in the corridor, Luke had reached the turbolifts, cursing that they were still locked down. Already turning away to set off for the stairwell, he rounded on her, eyes hard, jaw clenched, "Stay with the Emperor."

Mara slowed just slightly, knowing his anger wasn't really aimed at her, torn between safeguarding two men who were both supremely capable of protecting themselves, then set forward toward him again and Luke turned on her, hand out, finger pointed in warning, shouting in a sharp, clipped tone which invited no dissent, "_STAY WITH THE EMPEROR_!!"

She stopped dead, taken aback by the intensity and the agitation in his words; by the stark fury in his stormy blue eyes, the palest thread of fiery, sulpherous yellow glowing just momentarily at their rim-

He'd already turned away, the locked-down door to the emergency stairwell wrenching off its mountings as he threw out his hand, clattering away down the metal stair, the scraping din reverberating in the hollow space.

Mara watched the empty stairwell for long seconds, wavering, uncertain whether to follow… then she turned and set back to the Bridge and her master, the blaring claxon which finally sounded the alarm making her jump as she ran.

By the time Luke reached Ops Three the Rebels were gone; hardly surprising considering the Call to Quarters had been raised, the alarm warning them, though they probably already knew that they'd been discovered when they'd been locked out of the system.

But they hadn't gotten far; he was close now, only a turn or so away in the long corridors, glancing up, wondering if he could disable the ever-present surveillance cameras without suspicion… He could still sense her presence, strangely familiar even after all this time, enabling him to pinpoint them as they ran, continually closing, furious, incensed at the Rebels for allowing her to come; at her for probably insisting.

Still livid, he slowed to a walk and reached to pull his lightsaber free.

.

Leia ran at full tilt around the corner, her group about her, intensely aware that time was running out…

She shouldn't have come - Han was right; her being here was a liability for the Alliance - if she was caught alive… another Rebel leader for the Imperial propaganda machine to parade in public and…_  
something_ ran like ice up her spine and caught in her throat, locking her breath…

The heavy blastproof doors they had been running towards ground shut with a booming _smack_, the group split in two by the action. Trapped, she reached the locked doors, suddenly frantic, a dread lit deep within her-

A distinct, inimitable sound brought Leia about, time turning to treacle, several of the remaining soldiers about her lifting their weapons, stepping forward and fanning out uncertainly as the low, throaty thrum of a lightsaber grated through the air.

Leia turned, the sound of her own breathing loud in her ears… to see a lone dark-dressed figure step out into the sealed corridor.

For a moment - for a split second as the ruby lightsaber lit the blind turn at the far end of the corridor with a scarlet glow, she had expected to see Vader…

But the figure who strode forward, dark hair half-hiding wild eyes, body tensed, primed to fight, was somehow far more chilling-

The first shot rang out, making Leia flinch, and he didn't lift the blade; didn't even try to use it to deflect the bolt. Instead he brought up his left hand, palm out… and batted the laser bolt away to explode harmlessly into the wall in a wash of acrid light. Just as Vader had done on Bespin.

Others opened fire now and momentarily Leia felt some kind of hope as the sheer number of shots held him back, then he yelled out his rage and set forward, ploughing into the task force, cutting a path through them as if it were nothing, the whole unit against one man.

But still they fell, the speed of that bright crimson blade forming a seemingly solid wall of light against the blaster shots, deflected energy hitting the walls and ceiling in bright splashes of dispersed energy, lights flicking and failing in the ricochets, reducing the bright room to dim shadows, the security lens exploding in a brief blaze of scorching sparks, the blazing white of muzzle flashes glaring, catching brief, staccato images as the group began to break ranks, backing up with nowhere to go.

Leia turned, frantically trying to unlock the doors behind her, the charred mechanism smelling of scorched circuitry. Han had taught her how to hotwire doors and she lifted her blaster to the panel, shooting the plate free, burning her fingers on the hot metal and cursing it when it wouldn't move, finally dragging it aside to pull out the wires within and seeing it was useless; that everything was blown. She kept her eyes on the lock though, squinting in the flashes and the gloom; _ordered_ herself to concentrate - not to look back, not to listen - to do her job, to open the door…

And suddenly there was silence…

She turned to a darkened hallway heavy with smoke which swirled in thick roils, burning her eyes, the metallic twist of blood mixing with the smell of charred flesh and burned cordite, catching in the back of her throat. The bodies of those she'd known were scattered about her, twisted awkwardly, deathly-still. Blum, the last soldier standing, had stepped in front of her to protect her.

Visibility was just a few feet, lights knocked out, panels on the wall sparking in the dim haze, making her flinch - but in the centre of the choking gloom, bright and loud in the darkness, wrapped about by the twisting, roiling smoke, that scarlet blade still glowed ominously…

The dark smoke curled away at some unseen movement, shrinking back in perfect eddies as if unwilling to be near this shadow-wraith… and the Sith lifted his head slowly, blood-red blade dropping low behind him, tip to the floor.

He looked at her, his chest still heaving from the exertion of the fight, wild mismatched eyes locking hers- and Leia did the one thing she'd _never_ done before in her entire life…

She froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move beneath that razor gaze-

The single moment stretched to eternity, reality hazing to a distant, distorted blur- all that existed were brown eyes locked on mismatched blue-

And something- _something_ cut through every thought in Leia's mind; a mental whisper with the power of a punch exploding inside her head, as much a feeling as a thought, overwhelming, overpowering, making her flinch beneath its intensity-

_RUN!!_

It was like an electric shock coursing through her, like a charge fizzing round, firing every muscle-

She stumbled backward as the locked door grated open behind her, backstepping wildly, almost falling through the doorway as she gripped at Blum's sleeve, dragging him with her.

Without hesitation, without once raising her blaster, Leia turned and fled, the heavy blast door springing closed behind her with a reverberating clang, cutting him off.

She passed at full tilt the remainder of the unit, heading down a side-corridor, having set off to find another way to reach her and her trapped team. She didn't stop, didn't slow down, shouting to them to follow.

By the time they reached the escape ship, stormtroopers were close on their tail, their exit path held clear by Han's group, but in truth she hadn't even registered them or the blaster bolts which had fired wild down the pristine corridors of the new Star Destroyer, Han gesturing wildly as Chewie warmed up the engines of the stolen shuttle.

They barrelled onboard and blasted off as the ship's ramp was still sealing, setting a twisting course, running for hyperspace, the darkness about them lit to daylight by the ranging shots of too many Destroyers closing in about them, Han throwing the shuttle into complex manoeuvres, cursing the whole way.

Leia stood distant and removed, statue-still, everything somehow hazy and indistinct, reality relegated to vague washes of color and movement.

When the stars turned to streaks of light she was still stood in the cockpit, hand gripped knuckle-white about her unfired blaster, heart pounding like a hammer against her ribs, every beat hitching in her short breaths. Not at the ambush, nor the close shave…

But at _that moment_, running over and over in her head, when _his_ presence had cut through her thoughts like a blade, filling her with terror, instilling absolute dread, one single word overriding every rational thought…

_Run!! _

She lifted her free hand, looking to it now - it was still trembling…

.

.

.

Luke walked calmly back from the devastated stretch of corridor towards the Bridge, stormtroopers beginning to converge on his position though he didn't slow, forcing the Unit Commander to turn about as he spoke.

"Sir- the Rebels had released the lockdown on a shuttle in…"

"They're gone." Luke said calmly. Still deeply immersed in the Force, he could sense relief flood the trooper's thoughts; that he'd expected an explosion on delivering that news. "Stand down. Lock all sections and bays down and take all active 'trooper units to start a slow sweep of every floor, starting from the Bridge. I want every single person onboard checked against security logs- from the Palace; don't use those onboard. And get a 'tech team into the ops room where they were - check they've not left any surprises in the system." He turned to a second stormtrooper, hand out, "Comlink?"

The 'trooper handed over his comlink without hesitation; it was well known that the Commander never carried one of his own and even if he did, no-one was about to question him right now.

Admiral Joss answered Luke's comm, "Sir?"

"Status?"

"The Bridge is secured, Commander. We have no further reports of incursions and all inward corridors are sealed and guarded. The Dauntless, the Victory and the Vanguard are moving to flanking positions. The Executor is also closing."

"The Rebel ship?" Luke held his breath, though he already knew.

"Sir the ship made it to lightspeed; we were far enough from Coruscant that they could initiate drives immediately."

Luke didn't react; didn't let out the breath; there were too many eyes close by, not all of which could be trusted. "Trajectory?"

"Calculating, Sir- but the variables…" Joss paused momentarily, then; "Sir, The Emperor commands your presence."

"On my way."

.

.

By the time Luke reached the Bridge, security was off the scale, Royal Guard everywhere, the dignitaries having withdrawn into a small group like the sheep they were.

Palpatine was stood quite apart from the hectic rush of the busy bridge, gazing out of the viewscreen at the Destroyers converging on their position, forming a defensive wall about them.

He turned immediately as Luke approached, gesturing for him to rise when he'd only just made to kneel, genuine approval in his voice, "Rise- rise, my friend."

"The insurgents are gone, Master. The ship is being secured but I think they were an isolated threat."

"Who were they?" Palpatine's yellow-flecked eyes glowed, his pallid skin ashen in the strong light of the Destroyer bridge.

"Rebels." Luke replied simply; if his Master new the attack was imminent, then Luke had no reason to think that he wouldn't know who was planning it.

Now the Emperor's indulgent tone confirmed that he'd chosen the right course; Palpatine had known, and Luke's decision to move decisively against them had not been missed. "How do you know?"

He still couldn't resist this test, Luke knew, so obvious as to be insulting.

"Leia Organa was with them." This too had been carefully considered; if Luke had sensed her then his Master must have done the same, so to claim ignorance would be a glaring error, while to willingly admit it would be a valued reassurance. Though of course he didn't expect his Master to admit such out loud.

"You're sure?"

"Security footage will confirm it but yes, I'm sure."

Palpatine turned away, his face hidden in the folds of the heavy velvet hood he wore. The sting Luke had been expecting was finally delivered, "And you let her get away?"

"I didn't 'let her' do anything. But yes, she escaped." He allowed just enough frustration sound in his voice to suggest his own annoyance at this.

"How did she get out?"

"How did she get in?" Luke said, buying valuable seconds for thought…

"Answer my question."

"…They were trapped in the corridors close to Ops; I'd locked down the blast doors, trapping them." He shook his head, "I need to check the logs - they managed to open the doors somehow."

Palpatine glanced away again, satiated, "They held Override Codes – I will look very closely into how they had them."

Luke knew he was being let off too easily; the only possible reason he could fathom was that Palpatine knew the truth about Leia and was trying to gloss over it now, so he pushed the argument _against_ himself; the facts would be found out soon enough anyway and he might just be able to clarify Palpatine's knowledge by laying the blame for those doors elsewhere.

"Still, the doors shouldn't have opened again; I didn't close them using the mechanism."

Palpatine glanced sharply to him, "You used the Force?"

"Yes- the blast doors which the Rebels locked closed in the first assault had already been _opened_ again. I didn't have time to contact the bridge so _I_ closed them - locked her in. I thought I'd burned the system and stripped the gearing to do it. There should have been no way they could be opened."

Palpatine glanced away with forced calm, "Perhaps you were mistaken."

_He knows about her abilities- he's trying to hide them from me._

Luke pushed a little further, aware that he was indicting Leia Organa by insinuating that she had some control of her latent abilities, but this time the risk was worth the price. She was already number one on the Empire's 'Most Wanted' list and Luke needed to know whether it was because she was leader of the Rebellion or because Palpatine knew she was Force-sensitive. And anyway, having closed the blast door himself to convince Palpatine of his willingness to capture her, Luke had to explain away the fact that he had reopened it to get her out. "And… I thought I sensed…"

"You are injured." Palpatine said across his words, causing Luke to look down in genuine surprise. At some point during the short firefight he must have been hit by shrapnel and not realised, adrenaline and focus suppressing it, because when he lifted his left hand, palm up, there was a long, deep gash running down its edge from below his wrist to his little finger, blood drying about the ring he wore there, streaked across his palm and between his fingers.

Palpatine reached out and took his hand, the unanticipated act completely breaking Luke's train of thought. He resisted momentarily, pulling against the hold, but the Emperor stepped forward, drawing his hand closer as Luke tensed uneasily against the unexpected contact.

His Master put bone-thin fingers to the gash and opened it up momentarily, lifting it closer to study the wound. "It will need sutures- have it attended to."

Luke backstepped, again trying to free his hand. Palpatine looked up at this and Luke froze beneath that deliberate, meaningful gaze, deeply uncomfortable- then the Emperor released his hold and Luke slipped his hand free, Palpatine's blood-wet fingers sliding over it as he did so, long nails trailing against Luke's skin like a shiver down his spine.

He backstepped quickly, gathering his composure with distance, then bowed briefly and turned, walking quickly away, seeking to put some space between himself and his Master-

"First-" Luke turned about as Palpatine spoke out, loud enough for everyone on the Bridge to hear, "I will name the starship I came here to launch."

Everyone murmured, unsure, but Palpatine grinned, focus still on his feral Jedi at the far side of the bridge as the room hushed to expectant silence, all eyes on the Emperor as he strode slowly to centre-stage, commanding attention, gaze never leaving Luke's.

When he finally turned away it was to look to the assembled dignitaries and Officers, composed and confident, supremely self-possessed, making sure that this moment would be remembered. "I had thought to call it the Invincible… but that is just a name. This ship and its Commander - Heir to my Empire, Commander in Chief of my Fleet - deserve something more… unique. Something in consideration of the events which took place today, in appreciation of the allegiance, the loyalty of its Commander… The ship I launch today I will name _for_ him; after him-"

He held Luke's eyes across the bridge- not in coercion or intimidation for once, but in indulgent approval. And somehow that was more unsettling to Luke than anything that had gone before, freezing his chest to uneasy tightness as Palpatine spoke;

"I name this ship The Patriot. Long may it serve."

There was a polite ripple of applause about the room, though Luke didn't react, still held to that unsettled stillness, eyes on his Master-Finally he drew a breath; _forced_ himself to move past the moment. He bowed with studied calm, then turned and walked from the bridge, deeply disquieted.


	23. Chapter 23

.

"Well you are flavour of the month." Hallin said easily as he returned to the Patriot's medi-bay where he had sutured Luke's hand and sprayed the wound with sealant.

Luke looked up, glancing to the door, "Why?"

"I heard about the Destroyer's new name- it's all over the Fleet already. Apparently just any old name isn't good enough for The Heir any more - and Palpatine himself came to check on you earlier. Someone told him you'd be out shortly and offered to bring him here but he didn't seem inclined to wait."

Luke looked again to the door, but he knew his Master was long gone, so was breathing easy again. Less so about the new name or its context, aware of the double meaning; that he too had been redesignated today. He should be pleased that he had the Emperor's trust… why then did he feel so very uneasy?

He studied that thought; became uncomfortably aware for the first time of how easy it had been to rationalise his actions in support of his goal. How easy to validate them. How easy to kill.

"Care to tell us poor grunts what happened then?" Hallin said into his thoughts, clearing his instruments into a sterile bowl.

Luke glanced about the medi-bay, bringing his mind back to the moment; he couldn't see any surveillance but this was a new ship and he wasn't inclined to trust it. "There was a brief disturbance; it was dealt with."

He couldn't say more; not here.

"Ah. Very enlightening; thank-you." Hallin deadpanned, turning back to his charge.

He had been contacted onboard the Peerless about an hour ago with word that Luke had been injured and after a brief, breathless panic had found out that it was a minor injury, Luke himself contacting Hallin from the medicentre onboard the Invincible- or rather the Patriot- to tell his medic not to bother; it wasn't much more than a scratch and a droid was tending it.

Still, professional pride and the fact that Hallin was already on a transport had led him to insist, so Luke had ended up simply wrapping some gauze about the wound until Nathan arrived to suture it, maintaining that he would of course do a far better job and adding that anyway, he took great delight in seeing The Heir wince occasionally.

"Well, I think we can safely say you're free to go now. Sutures out in four or five days; you know the routine."

Luke stepped from the medical gurney he'd been sat on then glanced about, hand to his little finger, "Where's my ring?"

Hallin looked up, "What?"

"My ring, the ring I always wear on my little finger- they asked me to take it off when I came in here - I put it there." He gestured to the surface beside him, still glancing about. "There was a surgical dish right there."

The genuine alarm in Luke's voice made Hallin frown, "There was nothing there when I came in… at least I don't think…" he turned about and stepped into the larger triáge room beyond, Luke quickly following him.

Seeing two small metal dishes on a clear tray on the side, still containing bloody swabs, Luke walked quickly around Hallin, lifting the smaller one.

"It was in this - the droid asked me to take it off to clean the wound and I put it in here - I didn't see anybody take this out."

His voice was nothing short of panic now, and Hallin looked about on the surfaces, confused, "One of the medi-droid must have taken the tray out- it must have removed the ring."

"And done what with it? And the trays are still here… so are the swabs. Why would a 'droid…" Luke paused, his face- his whole demeanour- changing. "Palpatine."

"What?"

"Palpatine was in here."

"I'm sure he wouldn't…" Hallin trailed off as Luke turned on him, eyes wild.

"He was in the outer room- he would have seen it. He'd have only needed a second."

Hallin frowned, unnerved by Luke's intensity over something so insignificant. "Was it important?"

"It was my…" Luke bit off his answer, remembering where he was. Not that it mattered; he would have to go and ask for the ring back anyway - and Palpatine clearly knew what it was, though Luke had no idea how. Had he known Luke's mother… could he have recognised it? Had he noticed it when he had studied Luke's hand on the Bridge?

No- the renaming of the ship had been a genuine act, Luke was sure of it. Another thought occurred, freezing Luke's chest at its implications- had he now ruined the trust he had finally so briefly held?

Because he knew- in every fibre of his being, Luke _knew_ Palpatine had the ring.

He walked to the wall com and contacted the Bridge, mind buzzing. "Joss, is the Emperor still on-board?"

"No, Sir; he and his security escort returned to the Palace a while ago."

Hallin watched Luke stand before the comlink, hand resting on the transmit, considering, finally sighing as he shook his head infinitesimally, jaw tensing, eyes closing in resignation. What was going on- what was so important about the ring?

Luke sighed, cursing his own inattentiveness, rubbing his fingers across the bridge of his nose, tired and frustrated. He never took the ring off- _never_. Why had he done it today- why had he left it in plain view? Normally he would have simply transferred the ring to his other hand to keep it safe.

It wasn't like him to be so lax. But then he'd been unsettled, uneasy at the Emperor's praise- uncomfortable with it. It had been praying on his mind when he'd been in the medicentre.

Sometimes… he sighed again, frustrated; sometimes he wondered if he sabotaged his own efforts simply as a knee-jerk response. It had been such an obvious oversight- he'd _never_ let the ring from his sight before so why now?

One step forward two steps back; just as he was gaining some trust with the Emperor something happened. So common-a pattern was this that he'd begun to suspect that he could only play the game for so long before it became too uncomfortable to bear and he seemed almost to undermine his own advance. Occasionally it was a conscious judgment to destroy his favour with the Emperor, the by-product of a decision made by choice for logical reasons- at least to his mind. But just as often he would trip himself up or dig his heels in… or worse, he would trip himself up _and_ _then_ dig his heels in- just as he was about to do now.

What he _should_ do was wait; give Palpatine some time to calm down, to view the ring in the larger context of the day's events. In fact what he should do was let the ring go.

That was what he _should_ do.

He sighed, aware of Hallin's frown as he spoke into the comm, "Joss- get me a shuttle."

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked, knowing alarm audible in his voice.

"Going to find Palpatine." Luke said evenly without turning.

"You're not actually going to _ask_ him are you?"

It would be tantamount to accusing the Emperor of stealing, Hallin knew, though even that seemed pale, Luke's disproportionate reaction hinting that there was something bigger at stake here.

"Yes." Luke said, tight voice overlaid with a veneer of brittle calm, "It's the one damn thing I really own; the one thing that's _mine_."

The one thing he owned belonging to his mother- the one link he had to an unsullied past, though he couldn't say that out loud.

It was also the one thing that could link him to his father - and that he _did_ need to deal with this now, before it became an issue. Correct his mistake and placate his Master's anger before Palpatine dwelled on it too long- before he thought too hard on its implications. Luke shrugged, tone impassive; that of someone accepting their fate, "He's going to make me pay anyway- he's not about to let something like this go. I may as well get it over with."

He glanced up and despite his tone, when he looked to Hallin there was fire in his eyes; raw determination- "And I want that ring back."

.

.

Surprisingly, Luke was admitted immediately to the Emperor's residence, led through the huge, echoing grandeur of the main hallway and under the three-storey double staircase which hugged the curve of ebony and basalt-lined walls. Along columned walkways, the rows of Royal Guard stood to straight attention, a flash of bright scarlet in the cavernous shadows. It was always cold here, the high banks of faceted, copper-banded plexiglass always dialled down to near-darkness, endless stretches of shaded reflections dimmed to dense opacity. Footsteps echoing in the cloying silence, Luke was escorted to an audience room by an unusually tense Amedda, who stopped at the door, bowing slightly, never meeting Luke's eye.

Luke walked forward, taking a deep breath, prepared for anything-

The room was tall and gloomy with fine, intricately-set glass mosaic about walls and ceiling in complex designs and heavy, dark colours, making it seem clostrophobic despite its size. At the far wall was a single, tall window inset with banded brass, its mute glow barely allowing the wan dusk light to enter.

The Emperor stood before it, a brooding figure with his back to the room, heavy robes absorbing what little light touched them.

Gathering his composure, knowing that hesitation or misgivings were not an option before his Master, Luke set forward, coming to a halt before him and stepping automatically down into a bow, one knee to the floor.

Palpatine didn't turn; didn't move for a long time.

"Where did you get it?" he challenged at last, voice deadly calm, still not turning.

No ploys then; no verbal games or subtle manipulations; he was way past that.

Luke kept his eyes down, more afraid than ever now- not of the Emperor; he'd stood before his Master's wrath too many times now. If he turned on Luke it wouldn't be easy, would be brutal and vindictive and pitiless… but he'd survive- he always did.  
No- the one thought that was screaming through his head right now was that he would lose the ring, his one link with his mother. He wondered briefly how he would tell his father, who had kept the ring safe for so long, acutely aware that if he lied now he would be taking a significant gamble; if Palpatine realised, then he'd doubtless destroy it- and then turn on Luke. But if he told the truth then he would implicate his father - reveal the connection that would condemn them both - and Luke would still lose the ring.

Why was he risking so much for a ring; it was only a ring…

_Just get up and walk away- leave it and walk away. That's what he wants you to do; just say it's worthless, a curio nothing more. Leave it- apologise and you'll walk away exonerated. Let it go._

He couldn't stray too far from the truth; there was no other possible explanation for the ring. But the details could be amended. "I asked Vader who my mother was. The following day the ring was delivered to my quarters." He was committed now; he'd lied to his Master. He'd done so many times before but not like this; Palpatine reduced to cold fury, so much in the balance... _Focus; concentrate! Don't slip now._

The Emperor remained motionless for long seconds, the brittle stillness charging the air like the air before a storm. His head tilted just slightly though he didn't turn, as if simply seeing the boy would tip his anger over the edge. "What did he tell you?"

Did he believe? Or was he simply giving Luke the chance to further condemn himself, compounding lies with lies. Should he go on or stop now, whilst he could still back down? Too late, in truth; too late already- but he had to minimise his father's part in this. He couldn't deny or conceal it; the link between his father and the ring was categorical… but he could minimise it; disguise one truth behind another. Give Palpatine something to rail at and in doing so disperse the storm.

"Nothing. Save that she was dead; that I shouldn't concern myself with matters which were long gone." His heart was pounding, but Luke kept his eyes down, kept himself centred, mind buzzing.

Palpatine finally turned, face the thinnest veneer of calm, "Then why do you wear the ring?"

Luke looked up, forced himself to meet that hostile gaze, unable to keep the defensive cast from hardening his own eyes, "Because she was my mother."

Again Palpatine fell silent and again Luke feared that he was being given enough rope to hang himself. He'd been unable to contact his father on his way here and regretted it now, seeing the look in his Master's eyes. If Palpatine lashed out - if Luke was dragged to the cells beneath the Palace - the Vader would face his Master's wrath unprepared.

Finally Palpatine set his head to one side, voice disbelieving, "And yet when your father would tell you nothing- you simply accepted that?"

"No," Luke glanced away, arranging a trace of frustration on his face, clenching his jaw momentarily, "I didn't accept it. We argued. He told me it wasn't my concern." A retelling of the same facts, carefully rearranged; a fine line between seeming reluctant to elaborate, which was the sure sign of a lie and, knowing it was exactly that, being unwilling to provide any more than was absolutely necessary; complications would be difficult to keep track of. He'd played this game too many times- though not often with these stakes.

"The decision wasn't his to make- shouldn't be." Luke added, wishing to seem still infuriated by is father's reticence, to underline their continued enmity. "Whatever rights he thinks he has, he gave up long ago."

.

Palpatine stared for a long time at his errant Jedi, still knelt in genuflection before him. So long that the boy's gaze finally faltered and he looked to the ground, knowing he was the one at fault here. And he _was_ at fault; he was Palpatine's, and Palpatine's alone. There were no rivals- he _knew_ that. "Every time I have a reason to trust you… you give me one to doubt."

The boy at least had the good grace to keep his head down and remain silent. Was he truly penitent or was this simply a masquerade; had he learned these games too well? Palpatine fell to sullen silence, studying the boy, aware that so much was hidden. How could it not be, that he remained always a blank slate before his Master's searching senses?

"Stand up and look at me."

Now he did sense the short, sharp twist of nerves as the boy stood, adrenalin burning in his chest. Sensed the resolve he called on to lift his head and look his Master in the eye. Watched his chest rise in short breaths, noted his realisation of this as he forced calm, steady breathing. Nothing truly telling though, save that he was nervous - but then he was right to be so.

Palpatine took three quick steps toward his Jedi and held his gaze captive in a sharp, judgmental stare, "Are you lying to me?"

The boy held his glare and didn't blink. "No Master." He murmured guilelessly with the slightest shake of his head.  
_Hide a truth within a truth; that was what Palpatine did- had he learned at the feet of the Master?_

The Emperor held that doleful stare, ochre eyes narrowing in scrutiny, and the boy's gaze met his, neither belligerent nor conceding. They remained still for long moments, Palpatine reaching out with the Force, bringing all his astute experience to bear, the boy remaining still, wrapped about by a forced calm, whatever he had hidden too veiled to sense. Finally Palpatine twisted away, frustrated, the dark folds of his heavy robes rendering him a shadow in the falling dusk as he considered for long seconds…

When he turned back, in the palm of his pale, gaunt hand was the ring, still stained by a slick of dry blood.

He saw the boy's eyes go to the ring and _knew_ how much it meant; that this wasn't about his realisation that he had misstepped in owning the ring, it wasn't even about protecting some perceived obligation to his father. He was here because he wanted the ring back.

Wanted the ring why- because of who it had belonged to? Because of some imagined bond with a woman he'd never known, whose only connection was to have carried him? A burst of resentment blazed through the Emperor at that thought; that the boy would value her for no greater reason than biological necessity. That the commitment which Palpatine had fought long years to gain, the devotion he deserved was being freely given to another based on nothing more than genetic coincidence, leaving him in the galling position of having to defend his standing as the boy's _only_ focus from a woman who was already dead, even her memory an unacceptable division of the boy's attention.

The slightest of bitter, biting smiles turned the corners of Palpatine's thin lips up, his expression hardening as he set forward, sense ablaze with grim intent- if the boy wanted he ring so very much then he could have it; but at a price. He would teach the lesson one more time that knowledge was power- and how one wielded it was everything.

The sound- _that sound_- the crumpled crush of heavy fabric over hard floor as Palpatine started forward, still had the power to cut through Luke, taking him instantly back to the cell below the Palace, the harsh, harrowing, agonizing grind of pain and provocation brought to bear every time his pitiless tormentor entered the cell to the scratching whisper of drawn cloth. Controls and compulsions wrapped about memories too intense to step back from, even now- as he was sure the Sith Master had intended.

Palpatine's spiteful words were bitten out with grating rancour as he drew closer, face twisted in distain, "Your mother was a traitor. While she attended the Senate she was spreading lies and dissent, undermining its authority and attempting to widen the fractures in the failing Republic. She came to power based on her oposition to the Separatists, but as her power base grew she questioned the actions of the Senate against them- she _supported_ those who warred against the Old Republic you so venerate. She was deliberately and directly responsible for the removal of the last true Supreme Chancellor of the Senate, Finis Valorum. She instigated the vote of No Confidence; her actions brought him down- did your father tell you _that_?"

The boy's chin raised at this, fire in his eyes, and though he didn't speak Palpatine knew he had scored a blow.  
"_She_ led the Delegation of Two Thousand, the act which effectively split the Senate in two; polarised it and weakened it beyond retrieval. Betrayed and undermined and fractured the Republic she claimed to serve… and your father forgave her. Repeatedly looked the other way because he was _weak_. But he paid for his pitiful flaw; he was taught the harshest lesson."

The boy's calm façade began to crack now and he took a step back before the onslaught, unwilling to listen but unable to leave whilst his Master still held the ring- and Palpatine continued, lips pulled back in a malicious sneer as he stepped forward, holding the ring before him.

"Because she betrayed your father too- it was your mother who led Obi-Wan to your father, knowing that the Jedi sought to slay him, young as he was. I had sent him to safety, far from Coruscant - it was your mother who took your father's killer to Mustafar. And then she left with Obi-Wan- left him there to die alone."

"… No!…" Luke reeled back, turning away in denial, letting out a breath as if he had been dealt a physical blow, hand to the wall for support, but Palpatine wouldn't give him that comfort, stepping close, taking his arm to spin him about-

"Am _I_ telling the truth?" Palpatine pushed, "_Am I telling the truth?!"_

"_YES!" _Luke twisted free with a gasp, disillusionment breaking his voice, "…yes…"

Palpatine let him go, seeing his shoulders sag, head low- and he smiled, triumph dripping from his words as he spoke, "Do you _still_ want the ring?"

The boy remained silent for long seconds… then he lifted his head, mismatched eyes intensely blue, but as defiant and wilful as ever.

"….. Yes." He grated, unsteady hand out before him.

Disgusted, Palpatine turned away and hurled the ring into the shadows.

Luke turned, hand still before him- and the ring rattled in a curving arc across the dark glass tiles and skipped up into his palm. He paused, looking down at it as he curled his fingers about it… then he turned and left in silence.

Palpatine stood alone, a shadow within the shadows of the darkened room, still turned from the door… still grinning his victory.

.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

Reece re-read the final briefing for the formal reception to be given in honour of the Patriot's launch, frowning at the unexpected changes before glancing to The Heir. "Your orders have changed slightly for this evening, Sir. Your mark, Kiria D'Arca- apparently you're to lead the first dance with her tonight."

Luke glanced up from his reverie, having clearly not heard. He'd spent the afternoon trying hard to avoid everyone, yet frustrating unable to contact the one person he desperately wanted to speak to; his father. Nor would he be able to speak to him tonight; the Executor had already left orbit at the Emperor's command, in pursuit of those who had launched the attack, and remained unobtainable whilst in lightspeed. Finally he'd taken to hiding out in the small study behind his office, which was where Reece had found him by searching out the plain-clothes guards who always hovered outside which ever room he'd retreated to. Now he stood absently watching the sun set behind the opposite tower of the massive, imposing Palace, turning the ring over in his hand; turning Palpatine's words over in his head.

This was Reece's third attempt to reinstate some kind of normality to the day and railroad Luke into dressing for the official reception this evening, though Luke remained indifferent, half-glancing back as Reece pushed on, repeating his words. "Your mark, Kiria D'Arca- you're to lead the first dance with her."

Luke pursed his lips, "I don't think so. In fact after today's fiasco, I'm seriously considering not attending at all rather than give Palpatine the opportunity for some public potshot at me."

He'd skimmed over the facts of his meeting with Palpatine that afternoon, giving Reece and Hallin none of the specifics, and that only because Hallin already knew about the ring, even if he didn't know its significance. And because of course, there would be fallout and damage control to consider. Reece paused for a few seconds, and Luke knew that he was taking the time to get his argument straight in his head before he launched into his reasons, probably numerous and maybe even numbered, which he had a habit of doing if he considered the points relevant enough. He wasn't disappointed.

"Firstly, an _invitation_ given by the Emperor is a command, not a request; you know that." Reece's voice was the epitome of restrained calm, "Secondly, your father has spent months setting up the contacts from the Rim Fleet for you to speak with tonight. You can't _not_ attend; it's the only chance you'll have to make contact with many of them for the rest of the year; it's an unrivalled opportunity."

"And you really think that the only opportunity I have to meet with them should be when there's a good chance of Palpatine launching into some kind of public reprisal?"

"Yes Sir, I do. And if he did- well then, that only supports your position. As far as everyone there is concerned, you saved the Emperor's life today. He made a public speech to that effect, changing the name of a Super Star Destroyer in recognition of the fact. He's hardly going to counter all of that by making some open criticism tonight over something as insignificant as a ring, Sir; there _is_ no public discord between the Emperor and The Heir, you know that. And if he did, it would be the Emperor who would be considered capricious and not yourself."

The Heir leaned back, jaw flexing as he looked out over the city with a long, doubtful sigh- but at least he was prepared to hear Wez out. He ploughed on, hoping to provide a little perspective; a glance at the larger picture which The Heir seemed unable to step back and see today.

"I'd also advise you to consider Palace protocol; its bad form to refuse to turn up to a reception given in recognition of the launch of a Super Star Destroyer you've just been given command of."

"Protocol." Luke made the word a curse, but Wez pushed on.

"The people out there watching are the foremost powers of both the Core and Rim Systems- they're the one's you need to impress. And they _want_ to be impressed; they're willing to listen to you because they're ready for change…_ Real change_. Not just a replacement for the Emperor- they're looking for an _alternative_. Palpatine was a leader of his time; he forged an Empire from the chaos of the Clone Wars but that time is over now- the Empire's ready to move on and they know it. They're looking for someone who can be a diplomat, someone composed and practical and level-headed. Palpatine was a stabilizing force but he's spent years imposing and enforcing his view without exception; they still want that strength, that decisive focus, but now they'll rally around someone who offers more. Someone rational and adaptable- someone more humane. They're ready to move on and they're looking to you. All you have to do is show them you understand- that you agree; that your values and goals are the same as theirs."

"And I do all that by dancing with a woman I've never met?"

The Heir's disparaging, long-suffering tone brought a rare smile to Reece's face. "No, Sir- but it's a start. You need to inspire confidence by example- by a method they recognize in a language they understand. The D'Arca's are a powerful family politically and militarily in both the Core and the Rim systems; they can help forward your plans considerably and regardless of the Emperor's machinations, you need to pursue your own goals."

The D'Arca's are loyal to the Emperor." Luke stated uncategorically, though Wez wasn't yet ready to concede.

"You may well find that the D'Arca's are in fact loyal to the _Empire_, as I am."

"I think it more likely that they're simply loyal to their own goals." Luke said, remembering his previous meetings with Beladon D'Arca.

"Which doesn't mean to say that they're not valuable." Wez argued, "They're an old House and they offer links to the past and you need to show that you respect that. That when you come to power those traditions and conventions will be acknowledged and upheld; there'll be no more upheavals, stability will be maintained. You need to start acting like the Statesman they need you to be."

"That's an awful lot to squeeze into one dance." Luke said with dry humour, finally coming round a little. "Maybe we could just hand out cards?"

Reece raised his eyebrows slightly in sardonic reply, following Luke as he set out from his study into the lofty hallway beyond, aware from his tone that The Heir was willing to concede this fight even if he wasn't ready to admit it out loud.

It was one of the reasons why Wez had defected; unlike Palpatine, The Heir was willing to listen to reason. In fact, Reece genuinely believed him to be all of the things he'd just cited as requirements for the Empire's next leader- and he'd made it his mission to make others realize that too.

He brought his attention back to the Heir now as Luke offered in a mock-conciliatory tone, "We could put gold edges on the cards if it makes you feel any better."

"Gold edges are for invitations, Sir." Wez said in feigned seriousness on his charge's gibe at his familiarity with this kind of convention, "Statements of intent are always sent on woven white ground with grey edging."

.

.

.

The State Ballroom was immense, it and its grand entrance, the Mirrored Gallery, occupying a complete floor of the East Tower. Soaring over five storeys in high, above its intricately-inset polished marquentry floors, hundreds of rock-crystal globes illuminated a reeded and coffered ceiling, their faceted surfaces bouncing refracted light over gilded detail. Lofty windows set with faceted panes ranged the run of one wall, giving vague, mirror-image views of the other towers, the photovoltaic glass darkened against the low-lying sun of the early evening, the low amber light making the wood of richly-carved relief on hundreds of separate panels lining the remaining walls glow softly, each panel carved from a particular planet's most valued hardwoods, depicting an elaborate dado-to-ceiling-level representation of that for which the individual planet was famed.

The sumptuous décor and furnishings were purposely ostentatious, the room a monumental, lavishly extravagant statement of Imperial power and wealth. The State Ballroom - a mirror-image of its sister the Dominion Ballroom in the North Tower but almost three times its size - had been chosen with great deliberation; there were twenty-seven different civic ballrooms in the Palace towers, discounting those in individual apartments, each carefully designed to project a different facet of the Empire's influence.  
This hall with its exceptional craftsmanship and incalculable affluence, art new and ancient from throughout the Empire adorning it, was an imposing expression of confidence and continuity, solidarity and perpetuity. It was an impressive testament to the incomparable wealth of the Empire - and the willingness of Palpatine to spend it without hesitation.

.

Mara entered quietly, avoiding the Master of Ceremonies announcing those who entered at the tall double doors and stepping quickly down the wide expanse of carved steps, the train of her dark, chocolate brown dress pooling behind her as she set forward to lose herself in the throng, glancing about the multitude of people, looking for only one.

She had expected to be on duty tonight serving as Luke's bodyguard, as she so often did at such functions, but Palpatine he had ordered that Reece and not she should attend with no further explanation. At first she'd felt snubbed, uncertain what was going on but certain that _something_ was. Then she'd taken it as a challenge, confident of her ability to gain entry- it wasn't as if she'd been directed _not_ to attend. So she'd taken the time to make an effort tonight; she used to do this so much when on assignments; turned heads with her casual grace- sometimes the best place to hide was in full view.

The gown she wore was rich, matt chocolate vinesilk, cut on the bias so that it skimmed every contour, the front shaped low in a fluid crumple of fabric which always hinted that it may just fall loose without ever being so gauche as to do so. Her jewellery was heavy amber and citrine set in rose gold, a fine, fretwork headdress set with the same stones pinning her hair back from her face to tumble loosely down her back, rich red against dark chocolate. The heavy stones in her earrings tapped gently against her neck as she glanced about, the citrines reflecting warm glints against flawless porcelain skin, her delicate blush all the color needed to set forest green eyes flashing.

She still turned heads when she walked through the crowd.

Luke stood unobtrusively off to one side of the vast hall, turning immediately when he sensed her presence, watching her walk quickly down the steps, eyes scanning the room.

His first thought was that she looked beautiful; she always looked that to him- always had- but tonight she was stunning; exquisite. His second consideration, as she vanished into the crowd, was surprise that she was here at all; he'd allowed her to be subtly excluded from coming, taking the convenient opportunity to hide his own intentions behind Palpatine's manipulations tonight, accepting without complaint the Emperor deliberately naming Reece as his bodyguard so that Mara had no excuse for being here- and had thought she'd taken the hint.

.

The automemo excluding Mara had been delivered from Palpatine's personal offices three days ago and had been brought to Luke's attention by Wez Reece, eliciting only the mildest curiosity from Luke as he handed it over.

"You have a mark at the reception following the launch of the Invincible, Sir."

Luke took the proffered automemo with only vague inerest, glancing down at the screen, "For?"

It wasn't uncommon for the Emperor to do this, using state functions to place his Jedi close to someone from whom he needed information in one form or another. Easier able to stay out of the spotlight and less intimidating than his Master, Luke could often accomplish Palpatine's intent more subtly, so to have a covert assignment was par for the course.

Still, Luke frowned at the image of his mark, "This is… D'Arca?"

"Kiria D'Arca; eldest daughter of Beladon and heir to the D'Arca family. Her father will be Master of Ceremonies at the Invincible's launch."

"What does he want me to do?"

Reece raised his eyebrows; "_Talk_ to her."

"For?"

"That's all that's listed in the brief." Reece said. "The Emperor requires you to… 'Make contact and establish a dialogue'."

"Establish a dialogue - now what's he up to?" Luke murmured, ever wary, "Why do I feel I'm being stage-managed?"

"Because you are." Reece said dryly, "Though there may be reasons other than the obvious; and even if that's the case they're not such a bad idea- the D'Arca's are a powerful family who hold sway among both the military and the Royal Houses. You could do worse than court them a little, with or without the Emperor's blessing."

"And who will you be '_courting'_ to further the cause?" Luke asked pointedly.

"That isn't my forte, Sir." Reece said levelly, eliciting a short laugh from Luke.

"Believe me, it isn't mine- and don't say this is a good opportunity to learn."

Wez held his eye for a moment then turned away. "It's a least bought us something; I'm ordered to stand as your bodyguard, which means that Mara Jade won't be in attendance."

Which was a useful thing indeed, considering Luke's self-imposed mission for the evening, planned with his father. He turned away, all business again.

"Send an acknowledgment and get more information on D'Arca. We'll work it into the timetable but we need one of our own people to mark her; run interference and separate us when I have the opportunity to make a contact with someone useful. I'll speak to her just once or twice- I've more important things to do."

He handed back the autoreader, aware that yet another level of play would have to be factored into the evening. "Get me something on D'Arca; anything to satisfy that I've taken an interest with minimum effort. I don't have time to be wasting this."

The Emperor's unsubtle assignations aside, Luke had his own agenda for that night and the best place to hide it was in plain view. If he couldn't ignore the Emperor's order regarding D'Arca then he could at least exploit it, and while Luke was well-used to operating around Mara's constant presence, an excuse to remove Palpatine's eyes and ears was surely worthwhile.  
Dismissing his momentary pang of guilt, Luke firmly fixed his eyes on the greater goal; they had never lied to each-other about their positions or their situations. He had a job to do, and he couldn't do it with Mara in close attendance.

.

Yet here she was, and she was clearly looking for someone. Did she know about his intentions tonight? Or more likely, had she found out about the Emperor's orders regarding D'Arca? Either way, if she was here looking for him then they had an interesting night ahead.

Luke turned away, hiding himself in the crown, mind focused on the task at hand.

The launch of the Invincible - or rather the Patriot - had gathered an unprecedented number of influential people in one place, both military and political; many potential allies, if approached properly. Those who may be open to such negotiations had already been identified, and Luke had the task of working his way round the carefully chosen selection of Destroyer Admirals and Captains, representatives of both the Core and more importantly the Rim Fleet, whose ships had accompanied Vader's back to Coruscant in Palpatine's grand display of force.

Although Luke now had large numbers of supporters in the Core Fleet, Palpatine had always taken great care that he had little or no prospect of accessing the Rim Fleet, so that to date Luke had the support of only a few Captains who had been transferred from the Core to the Rim Fleet, making this an unprecedented opportunity to increase his standing there.

There were also dignitaries, politicians and officials from all over the Empire; people of standing and power. To be here at all one must have certain credentials- which coincidentally made them just the kind of specialist entrepreneurs Luke was looking for. Those willing to claw their way to the top were often willing to invest in the future and every shrewd dealer knew that one should invest early; by the time such investments paid off, there was no time for latecomers. The earlier one invested, the greater the rewards.

So tonight he was selling, and the product was himself- not Luke Skywalker of course, but The Heir. Power, potential; a place in the future- for those prepared to take the risk.

Already he had invested a good amount of time speaking with those whom he needed to, scattering thoughts and suggestions, oblique offers of endorsement and future support, forming the beginnings of working relationships, affiliations and alliances within the Empire's expansive military and political machines. Mostly suggestions of such at the moment, a testing of the waters - it was too early for anything more yet - but the groundwork was laid... and the general attitude was receptive. Which was good, because he needed to have people in power who would support him- enable him to maintain stability through change. Needed to identify those who would be willing to work with him, the presently-subordinate, the mid-ranking and those within the existing hierarchy. As Heir he was in a position to create or consolidate status… to manipulate, elevate and maintain.

Power was something which came at a price, as his Master was so fond of saying. Some accepted this and others didn't. Those who played the game would prosper- he would see to that. Those who did not… they were of interest only in as far as that they were now fair game.

Officials and military personnel whom he felt he felt could be relied on would be quietly manipulated into new positions within the Fleet and the Palace, both by Vader and himself. The astute would realise why; some had already made subtle suggestions of deals to be made - the rest would find out in time. Some may never know - occasionally an enemy in the right position could do far more to further one's cause than any ally.

Wheels within wheels.

This was what he did now. This was what his Master had trained him for- in his own way and for his own reasons, but lessons learned were applied across the board.

And Luke felt no trace of guilt at drawing the willing or the powerful into his own strategies; these were intelligent, ambitious men who well knew the rules of the game, and if they chose to gamble it was at their own risk. They would have no qualms about using him in the same way if they could.

.

His eye was drawn by a movement from the crowd as Mara glided by several steps away, still searching. Luke turned away slightly, catching the sliver of her attention within the Force and subtly deflecting it, the action muted enough that he hoped Palpatine did not notice, or if he did it was only to take it at face value; as a rejection of her interest, given D'Arca's presence.

He glanced now to the far dais where the Emperor sat on his gilded throne divorced from his subjects by distance and disposition alike, making a rare 'public' appearance; he would stay a short while, then retire.

Luke was more wary of his disappearance than his presence; at least whilst he was here, he couldn't be watching his precious Jedi too closely. Though he had others doing just that; Luke had sensed four watchers scattered among the crowd already; it seemed a pointless act on face value, since Palpatine knew that Luke would sense them, but they served to slow him down in his avoidance, just as Mara did on a daily basis, and there were doubtless more, hidden in one way or another.

Eyes still on the Emperor, reluctant to go any closer but knowing that eventually he would have to, and that his Master would make the moment as difficult as possible, as he always did, Luke took the time to reflect on the day's events-

Admittedly the ring had placed into question all the hard work he had put into reassuring Palpatine of his loyalty, but he thought his Master had accepted the misdirection he'd provided - that he had wanted the ring, nothing more -­ a surface truth used to hide a deeper one, his search for some link with his mother shielding a deeper connection with his father. He'd tried again to contact his father on secure channels tonight, but again had been unsuccessful, though to his knowledge Palpatine hadn't cared to verify the 'facts' Luke had provided.

Yes, he had lost favour in going to retrieve the ring but now it was done, quickly addressed and dealt with, Palpatine's anger satiated. To have left the ring in his Master's possession would only be an open wound to fester on both their parts. He reflected briefly on Palpatine's unsettling accusations of his mother, much as he'd ordered himself not to- not yet, when so much hinged on tonight. Still, they hovered at the edge of his thoughts without showing on his face.

Had they been true? Yes- _as Palpatine saw them_.

That was the trouble with the truth; it could so easily be subjective. Another lesson learned at his Master's hand; one of his favourite games was to tell the _truth _scattered with just a few omissions and personal opinions. It was still the truth _as he saw it_- just not the actual facts.

What Luke needed for the facts was a name- something no-one seemed willing to give him. But even Palpatine's jealous diatribe had been of value; his father had told him his mother's given name and now he had what seemed like a profession; she had been a Senator - or at the very least involved in the Senate - right up to the time that the Republic had collapsed. And she had been involved in the resignation of Chancellor Valorum… and the Delegation of Two Thousand, whatever that was; records from pre-Empire days were scant, particularly those relating to the Senate. Those that were available were, by the very fact of being made available, unreliable.

Still, that was surely enough to begin a search, though even that was a dangerous thing. And given his own carefully-manipulated history, in all likelihood any useful reference to her would have been removed long ago- another of his Master's favourite impediments. Which didn't deter Luke; it simply made him consider his course of action that much more carefully.

His mind naturally moved on from this to other considered actions today, carefully placing uneasy thoughts of his own muddy past aside for a time when he'd have the opportunity to study them.

His conduct onboard the Patriot had at least ensured that his greater plan remained intact; Leia Organa was still free- though what had possessed her to come on such a high-risk mission to the heart of the Empire in the first place he had no idea. It had been an impulsive gamble to risk helping her at the time; a gut-instinct which had overruled all else, but the fact that he had gone to her aid may be of some value, setting questions in her mind, making her believe him still sympathetic to her cause in some way. Making her more willing to think that she just might be able to trust him, if only for a short time- which could only be to his advantage.

A brief smile came to his lips, curling the scar there at the memory of what had happened last time he had answered that gut feeling and gone to rushing to Leia Organa's aid.

He'd like to claim that today was indeed a result of long-term plans, but in fact it had been the same flip in his stomach as it had been on the Death Star… he chose to look no further at that tangle of feelings, concentrating instead on the benefits it had netted; he'd eventually be called upon to validate his actions, not so much by Reece and Hallin, but certainly by his father when the facts came out - and claiming a gut feeling would _not_ be an acceptable justification.

There was no point in trying to explain to his father; no point in trying to offer any persuasion. He always knew best, and rolled over any unwillingness on Luke's part as forcefully as Palpatine ever did. Was it out of paternal concern or myopic ambition?  
Luke remembered of old how many friends had lied to their parents on Tatooine, to maintain their own autonomy - but none had done so believing that if their parents discovered the lie, they could easily face betrayal to a ruthlessly implacable higher authority. That remained, as always, the limits of Luke's relationship with his father; that it had been _he_ who had handed Luke over to Palpatine, knowing what the Sith would do.

And despite everything, Luke still believed that under the same circumstances, his father would do the same thing.

Under that threat, how could he even consider admitting the truth? How could he risk what little he had left - and how could his father blame him for doing so? No, better to hide Luke Skywalker behind The Heir. It wasn't too hard a task; the truth was that even he found it different to tell one from the other now, intentions which had originally seemed so incompatible melding into a single intent. It would probably never come to fruition, but it was these long-range plans which kept him moving, kept him sane. And if either Vader or his Master figured them out then they deserved the upper hand, because Luke seldom could; sometimes they changed from day to day- from minute to minute, according to his disposition.

Yet when he'd seen Leia… in that second, all his plans had fallen away, secondary to his need simply to help her. Why he was always driven to protect her he didn't know. Yes, he needed her exactly where she was to fulfil his plans, but the truth was that in the moment that he'd realised she was aboard the Patriot, they hadn't even been a consideration. All he knew was that he needed to help her… and in that moment when she turned to run, if she'd taken his hand…

But she hadn't; he'd seen nothing but fear in her eyes; no recognition, no acknowledgement at all of the man she'd once said she couldn't imagine life without. And who could blame her? That man was long gone, swallowed up by this life and its constant demands.

Sometimes though, he still heard Luke Skywalker whisper to the Emperor's precious Wolf and sometimes… sometimes he still listened.

He focused his eyes, realising too late his mistake as Mara walked toward him, having no way to reasonably avoid her now.

.

Mara smiled as she walked toward him, aware that he'd been daydreaming. "You know, I may begin to get the feeling you're avoiding me."

She'd watched him intermittently from a safe distance for almost two hours now; had seen him intently single out specific officials and Moffs, the conversations always short, probably lasting until he had achieved whatever goal he set himself, a few minutes of mindless pleasantries either side, purposely including third parties now to conceal that goal from prying eyes, then he moved on.

It was like watching a con-man work a room…

She walked to stand beside him rather that before him, which may appear too familiar to watching eyes in the crowded room of milling people, both of them staring out for a short while, listening to the orchestra, keeping their distance, maintaining a casual formality as they always did in public, their words hidden behind the distant music.

Mara glanced sideways at him, studying him far closer than her casual glance suggested, aware that there was a focused energy about him tonight, an intensity which spoke more of purpose than nervousness. He looked at once distant and removed yet completely, intensely focused, as he often did on these occasions, and … very handsome.

He was dressed formally in a dark, flawlessly-fitted suit, a touch of white showing at the high collar. The suit was an interesting choice, hinting at military styling without being so specific as to alienate any civilians present, its cut emphasising his trim form- he was slim, would have perhaps bordered on rangy without the muscle which heavy daily exercise had earned him. As it was, it made him lean and powerful; one more allusion that he was becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Impeccable as always, very straight, very calm, he exuded self-possessed confidence despite the plethora of high-ranking officials present; an effortless poise which seemed completely unassailable. If it was an act for the benefit of those around him then it was a flawless one, Mara reflected. Sometimes it was difficult to tell with Luke; at times he was absolutely The Heir; the Emperor's Wolf, his Sith advocate, decisive and ruthless, relentlessly pursuing his goal… yet at other times he seemed absolutely the pilot who had been dragged here with no desire to stay, isolated and unreachable, still trying resolutely to cling to a past and a precedent which could only hinder him here and he knew it.

The more she knew him privately, the more she recognised these disparate facets, no matter how well he hid it from Palpatine.

The more she understood why Hallin stayed close.

Luke's mismatched eyes faltered momentarily, uncomfortable beneath Mara's searching gaze, and she turned away, smiling, her voice quiet enough to be hidden beneath the music. "So what trouble are you up to tonight?"

He smiled slightly, composure returning, his voice low and smooth, tinged with amusement, "I never create trouble; I just wake up on a morning and there it is."

"That's because you take it to bed with you." she countered easily, glancing back round.

"You can say that again."

She looked away, stifling a smile, but he kept his eyes on her, making her turn back, curious.

"You look very beautiful tonight." He said simply, making her self-conscious, her cheeks heating. He still had the power to do that; take her completely off-guard.

"Now I know you're up to something."

He glanced away into the crowd, manner politely indifferent for the benefit of any outside observers, "Yes I am - and you're ruining my schedule."

"Dance with me?" she asked simply, choosing to ignore his words even though she could sense the truth behind them.

He glanced back, momentarily surprised, then looked away, "I think I've upset Palpatine enough today, don't you?"

She too turned away slightly for the benefit of those watching, though her quiet voice was warm and teasing, "Why would dancing with me make it any worse- are you that bad-a dancer?"

He set his head to one side without looking to her, "Well I promised him the first dance- you know how tetchy he gets if someone steps in."

Mara smiled at his irreverent comment, keeping her eyes on the crowd though her complete attention was on him, reminding her of the journey up to the Patriot that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"Interesting," she said, nodding her head in mock consideration; "So who leads?"

He grinned, the unaffected air momentarily ruining his polished veneer, "Ah, that'd be telling."

She shook her head, stifling a grin, unable as ever to conceive of anyone speaking in such detrimental terms of the Emperor, though somehow since it was Luke, she found she didn't mind. "See, I thought you were gonna say you had to dance with Lady Kiria D'Arca."

He allowed the slightest of grimaces to show, for her benefit alone. "I'm trying hard to avoid it."

Mara turned to look ahead again, "You don't seem to be trying too hard to avoid _her_."

"I'm under orders." Luke excused, amused; was that jealousy?

He'd spoken to D'Arca just twice and, having fulfilled his order as far as he was concerned, had no intention of doing so again. Though in truth she'd been an unexpected distraction; elegant and striking, with caramel skin and almond eyes, she was an obviously ambitious socialite though she disguised it well, balancing it with a quick and witty mind and a spirited, game disposition which had drawn him in.

He felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought and set it resolutely aside. And anyway, he had no further interest in her despite her obvious attentiveness to him - or at least, his position.

"Yeah, life's tough." Mara deadpanned, making Luke smile genuinely.

"Fortunately I have you to make it tougher- just in case I find a moment's peace."

"Hey, I'm not even trying yet."

"Really? Then you must be a gifted natural."

Mara frowned, her voice suddenly taking on an unexpectedly serious air, "Do I complicate things?"

"Yes, incredibly." Luke said without hesitation.

"Seriously."

"Seriously? Yes incredibly." he said again, refusing to be drawn into a serious discussion right now. When she continued to study him, he allowed, "Fortunately you're worth it."

She turned away, satisfied, and they remained silent for a few moments, content just to be close to each-other, Luke forgetting his orders and aims for a moment, Mara no longer caring what they were.

"Dance with me tonight- alone?" she said at last, without looking- and he knew what she asked.

Knew the risk they ran.

Mara remained still, not daring to turn, and Luke remained silent, gazing out into the crowds so long that she thought he'd chosen not to reply; that his silence was an answer in itself. He'd said a hundred times that the risks of meeting in the Palace were too great and he was right, of course.

"Tonight." he whispered in quiet agreement, then walked quickly off into the crowd, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly across her hip as he left, soft as his whisper, leaving her at stare at his receding form quickly lost in the crowd, her heart hammering, a flush in her cheeks.

.

.

.

Luke was deep in persuasive conversation with Captain Hoken when the chime sounded and the room fell to well-mannered silence, so he actually missed the announcement of the First Dance, realising only as every mind and every eye in the massive room turned to him, expectant.

For long seconds he remained perfectly still, though his face registered no surprise, only a polite indifference as the crowds parted in a whisper of expensive gowns.

After a few moments of consideration, politely broken by the slightly nervous prompting cough of Reece behind him, he set forward to the centre of the vast space. Easy as it would have been to create a scene, he had an agenda to fulfil tonight and Reece had been right when he'd maintained that Luke wouldn't do that by seeming a loose cannon to those he needed to impress with his potential as a future leader. Better to simply go with the flow and pick up where he'd left off in a few minutes time.

He made the long walk to the centre of the floor, reflecting how much he had changed that what would once have seemed an insurmountably daunting prospect was now viewed as little more than a minor nuisance- less than a glitch in the evening's plans.

As he reached the centre of the floor, a petite woman with warm olive skin and dark, oval eyes stepped gracefully towards him, the train of her ruby dress shimmering with each step.

He stopped before her as she curtsied perfectly and, though it wasn't strictly necessary, he took a half-step back and inclined his head slightly in a not-quite bow. Luke held out his hand in invitation, and the lithe, delicate woman stepped in and took it, the music beginning just as he rested his hand about her waist.

And they danced.

Something else that four years ago would have been inconceivable to him, but many hour's tutelage on the polite but dogged persistence of his assigned - and much maligned, if only for his title - Ministerial Representative of the Office of Court Culture and Protocol, had made even this, before so many, second nature. No more taxing than any other Court etiquette he had been force-fed in recent years.

For a long time he had resolutely ignored the fact that twice a week every week, a dance instructor arrived promptly at his apartments, at the request of the CCP Minister. The instructor and a dance partner waited patiently in the Perlemian Ballroom for the full hour of his supposed lesson before leaving, to return as ordered by the Minister for their next scheduled lesson, waiting in vain for their charge's attendance.

For well over a year this continued, a series of tutors and advisors arriving as commissioned to teach all aspects of protocol and etiquette, all waiting patiently, all pointedly ignored, though often Luke was in his apartments when they arrived- he simply walked by their assigned rooms without a second glance.

As the year rolled on, Luke was well aware that he was living on borrowed time; the Emperor would certainly have been made aware of his lack of attendance to any protocol lessons and sooner or later Luke knew he would be called on it, certainly in public and probably in some situation carefully chosen to inflict the greatest embarrassment. He'd held out a little longer, more out of stubborn refusal to be intimidated than any greater cause, but eventually, as he found it necessary to move in certain circles and project a certain image, it had become more of a impediment to be ignorant of such practices than to simply back down and learn them.

So he had reluctantly begun to attend, much to the surprise of his assorted tutors, genuinely committed to learning all that they could supply, viewing it more as ammunition than acquiescence. It irked him that it was necessary but he wasn't about to be hobbled or be judged and found wanting by those who considered such things important- not when it was so easily remedied. Yes, he still privately considered such things irrelevant and elitist, but age and experience were dampening that blunt, blind, obstinate will to something more manageable; tempering it to serve rather than hinder.

Hallin had been his usual erudite self in advising Luke to look on this as simply learning another language- one that, like Old Coruscanti, was essential to the world he now lived in. Having finally relented and learned the protocols, etiquette and complex machinations of Court life from a strictly self-serving point of view, he felt no discomfort in its use anymore. Familiarity bred, if not contempt than certainly confidence- relaxed poise in the presence of this unspoken language of countless rules and subtle conventions.

Whether he agreed with or despised them was irrelevant; close, often-illustrated knowledge of it enabled him to use, abuse it or hide behind them as he saw fit. The fact that everyone _knew_ that he understood this complex, convoluted language meant that whether he chose to flout it or to enact it in itself became part of that language.

So now, when he danced with D'Arca, although he was polite and maintained eye-contact, he felt no particular need to speak with her; it wasn't necessary- it wasn't _required_ of him. The dance was for the benefit of others; he was doing nothing more than fulfilling an order on the part of the Emperor and despite Reece's words earlier that week suggesting the logic in forging an alliance with the influential D'Arca's, Luke wouldn't be led or cornered, either by his Master or his advisor.

She held his eyes intently as they danced and he didn't look away, used to the curiosity of others by now, so that all he could hear above the distant music was the sound of their breath as they danced, and the light tap of their feet against the polished floor.

Eventually those entitled to do so joined them and the floor began to fill, though they always enjoyed a clear space about them, everyone remaining politely distant. When the music finished, Luke released D'Arca and took a step back, inclining his head again before turning to leave.

"Perhaps…" D'Arca's hastily-spoken word brought him about and she immediately lowered her head in apology; one didn't generally talk to The Heir's back, or continue to speak when he had clearly made to leave, her decision to do so also part of that unspoken language, subtle messages even here. She held tenaciously to her guns, lifting her head as he turned about, dark mahogany-brown eyes inviting. "Perhaps The Heir will dance again tonight?"

"I very much doubt it." He would have turned away, well aware that he was being played, but some sense of genuine regret on her part made him add, "It's hardly my strong point."

She flashed a smile which lit up her face, "I thought The Heir danced beautifully."

Luke couldn't help but smile, drawn in by her charm but hardly blinded by it, "I'm afraid I dance as well as you lie, my Lady."

"My heart wasn't in it- until now." D'Arca said, clearly hoping to echo his own restrained distaste at such protocol, but the moment was lost and Luke backstepped slightly, voicing what could easily be taken as either acceptance of her white lie or tacit admission of his own feelings.

"As you say, Lady D'Arca."

Luke bowed slightly again, aware that the music could not continue unless he made clear either his intention dance or to leave the floor, and this time D'Arca had the good grace to back down, curtsying again as he turned an left without looking back, his mind already elsewhere.

.

.

.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

.

.

Hallin burst into Luke's bedroom, making Mara start awake, scrabbling vainly to disappear beneath the sheets. Luke didn't even move, but then he probably already knew he was coming.

"Up! Get up! Quickly!" Hallin didn't even pause, rushing about the room, picking up Mara's clothes.

Since he clearly already knew she was in here, Mara finally stopped trying to hide beneath the sheets, instead watching the surreal scene unfold before her in the early morning light, the slender medic rushing about like a dynamo as Luke finally turned over from his stomach, gruff voice very pointedly unamused, his Rim accent holding sway.

"This had better be _so_ good…"

"Chancellor Amedda's on his way here. Now." Hallin added, glancing about to check that he'd missed nothing.

Which was enough to wake Luke up, but he still pushed calmly upright, covers tangled about him, letting his legs drop over the side of the bed and dragging his hand through unruly hair, "And what- am I receiving him in my _bedroom_?"

Hallin stopped dead, Mara's clothes still bundled in his arms, "Well I'm glad one of us thinks this is funny."

"Wait- why is Amedda coming here?" Mara asked of the Emperor's Primary Aide.

"And how far away is he?" Luke added, voice still husky from sleep.

"He's still several minutes away- we had…" Hallin paused; he didn't look meaningfully at Mara but he may as well have done. "…prior warning."

Mara heard Luke sigh very lightly and knew that he was thinking the same as she; Hallin had already said and done too much- not only had his actions clarified to Mara that his trusted position was such that he already knew about Luke and herself - and was evidently so trustworthy that he would now attempt to cover it up - but he'd just all but admitted that Luke also had an informer in the Cabinet or Council offices.

"It's fine Nathan." The tone of Luke's voice was more awake now- and clearly very eager to get Hallin out of the room before he made another gaffe, "Mara will stay in here; you'll ask Wez to arrange for someone he trusts to go and get her uniform and she'll leave later as if nothing happened. She'll take her clothes back separately."

Mara was still frowning, worried by the Chancellor's coincidental arrival, "Does Amedda often come here?"

Luke half-turned. "No. Only formal business as the Emperor's official representative."

Mara turned back to Hallin, eyes sharp, "Did your 'friend' say why he was coming?"

Luke cut in before the medic even began to reply, obviously not wishing to allow a very twitchy Hallin under Mara's close scrutiny, "If Palpatine knew you were here I think he'd be here himself by now and if he wasn't sure, sending an official representative isn't exactly subtle; neither of us are likely to get spooked into making a mistake."

Mara shook her head, uneasy at the coincidence, "Still…"

Luke turned on her, and just for a second she could see the contention in his eyes;_ 'you wanted to risk this_', but he stopped himself long before he spoke, turning back to Hallin, voice even and measured, "Go and tell Reece to show Amedda to the White Drawing Room."

"No- wait; show him to the Morning Room." Mara corrected, knowing it afforded no line-of-sight to Luke's private rooms.

Luke turned, eyes quizzical, and Mara's mind whirred for a second or two, but she had no reasonable excuse for this, so admitted the truth; "There's a concealed passage in the rear wall of the storeroom in your Music Room; if I can get to that, I can come out three storeys down."

"Into the staff quarters?" Luke was trying to keep his voice casual though Mara knew this would be of great interest to him.

She nodded, knowing that he would store that piece of information away for future use, but knowing also how useful it could be for them both from now on, "In a side corridor in the kitchens. _If_ you can get me a clear route across the main hallway."

Luke turned immediately to Hallin, mind back in the moment, "Who's on duty?"

"Clem and Vassigo. Vassigo's your close guard, but Clem's in the main cupola." Hallin recited from memory, knowing the latter was in the main crossroads, an easily-monitored central point popular with the guards because it offered a clear view down the four wide hallways which reached to the far corners of the sprawling apartment, meaning it would bar Mara's exit whichever way she chose.

"I could cut through your office." Mara said of the common shortcut used to avoid the long, grand main hallway and massive central atrium, "Then… what- through the State Dining Room and-"

Luke was already shaking his head, "You'd still need to get through the Grand Hall and the Gallery then cross the main corridor to get to the Music Room- plus you'd need to cross it again close to the main entrance _and_ close to Amedda. Too many chances." Instead he turned back to Hallin, considering.

"Clem will take a private comm whilst on duty. When Mara's ready, you go to the staff wing and comm the guard room opposite- ask for Lieutenant Clem. Make sure the comm can't be traced."

Clem was one of the many more general bodyguards attached to all high-ranking individuals in the Palace, Mara knew, whose brief tended not to extend outside the Palace walls, though they were generally attached to a single individual or household. As always seemed the case with individuals of high status, an inordinate number of people seemed to find it necessary to be in Luke's apartments at any given time- bodyguards, personal aides, secretaries and servants. She remembered how he'd resented it when he'd first arrived, viewing it as little more than a method of not-very-covert surveillance - which was at least partially true of _all_ people of rank in the Imperial Palace. Now he seemed completely at ease with it; but then, he had carefully surrounded himself with people he trusted- and those he didn't trust, he clearly made it his business to know very well.

Which made her wonder momentarily which category she fell into…

Hallin was nodding as Luke spoke, but his eyes remained wide, seeming all the more so because of his slight frame and olive skin. It seemed to Mara that even if she and Luke were not the panicking kind, then Hallin was doing enough for all three of them.

"And Nathan-" Luke added, making the fretful man pause at the door, "Try not to be around when Amedda arrives."

Hallin delivered a withering look and dashed out, leaving Mara to realise that he hadn't once met her eye or acknowledged her; only Luke.

Luke finally sighed into the silence, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, "See, _this_ is why we don't meet in the Palace; for one thing Nathan would have a coronary within a week."

Mara was still staring at the closed door, "… he just took all my clothes…"

Luke lunged up and headed for the door, pausing just as he reached it to dash back and grab a gown which lay over a nightstand.

She smiled mischievously, setting her head to one side, "See, you make that whole panic routine look so much nicer… maybe it's the naked thing…"

He spared her a dry glower before setting off back to the door, pulling the robe about him as he went.

.

.

In the event, the visit was indeed to pass on an official communiqué from the Emperor; it was Flight Orders for the Patriot which, in a change from the intended shakedown flight, was to leave that morning for the Rim Systems- with a guest.

Palpatine would be on the maiden voyage of the Patriot, the Peerless and the Dauntless serving as escort.

That brought Mara back to reality with a bang, making her realise just how foolish they had been the previous night; not only had they been reckless in taking the risk themselves, but clearly Hallin also knew about it - and while Luke could teach Mara to hide her thoughts whilst near the Emperor, she was pretty damn sure that he couldn't do the same with Hallin- who was now about to spent several weeks in close proximity aboard the Patriot.

If Palpatine _had_ wanted to caution, dissuade or just plain scare them, he couldn't have done a better job.


	25. Chapter 25

Palpatine sat in the high, curve-backed chair on the Command Deck of the Patriot, specially fitted on his order to accommodate him on this journey, completing ignoring the tense, respectful bow by the medic Hallin as he walked briskly from the bridge, abuzz with nerves.

And well may he be; he clearly knew about Jade and Skywalker - was at virtual meltdown every time the two were together before Palpatine's close scrutiny - yet he had elected not to tell Palpatine of their trysts.

Palpatine had chosen the medic very carefully when he had first gained possession of his Jedi, seeking one person whom the boy would reasonably trust - one of a similar age and mindset with whom he could perhaps even build a friendship - confide in. He had at that point no clear knowledge of his new Jedi's mindset- if Jade were unsuitable to hold him, then perhaps Hallin would be more appropriate. Whichever- he needed something to exert control over the boy, something which could easily be taken away. Something that wouldn't withstand interrogation, if it came to the point that Palpatine needed facts.

His Jedi knew all this now of course- knew that the medic was living on borrowed time, that the thing which both protected and condemned him was Skywalker's continued association. For all his burgeoning strengths, his Jedi allowed himself far too many weakness- and he knew it.

Stood to the front of the Bridge, as far away from Palpatine as he could reasonably be and well aware of his Master's eyes on him, his Jedi was now with Admiral Joss and three officers, quietly conferring, Mara stood to loose attention at a tactful distance.

They were all uneasy with the fact that the Patriot was making a lightspeed jump with co-ordinates only, no planetary name or navigation inventory. Not that Palpatine cared; his military would do as they were ordered, and the reason for this journey was something he had purposely kept hidden from his Jedi. He wanted a genuine reaction on arrival; no time to hide true opinions behind shields- Skywalker was becoming far too adept at that.

And he still wore the ring; Palpatine hadn't failed to notice that. Though a few days had given him the perspective to see the fact for what it was; a minor dissent. Not so minor that he hadn't moved to prevent the boy from speaking to his father since the incident, bringing this trip forward to keep them well apart until Palpatine had finished sewing his little seeds of doubt in the boy's mind. The slightest of smiles twitched the corner of his lip in appreciation of the irony; here he had been, wary and watching for associations between the boy and his father, when in fact it had been his mother, the slip of a girl who had tried to turn Anakin's head, who had proved the problem.

Still, she had failed then and she would fail now; she wouldn't drive a wedge between Palpatine and the boy. He should thank her, he supposed; she had after all provided him not only with the man who had helped him create his Empire, but with the building-block to ensure that it thrived for generations to come. He had great plans for Padmés son, just as he'd once had for his father, and nothing as trivial as the boy's wilful intentions would derail him. Palpatine's greater plan rolled on regardless, and the boy was still dragged with it; this journey was proof of that.

Sulphurous eyes turned coldly on Mara as he considered long-term schemes and stratagems, some of which required her presence… others of which did not.

For now, he would tolerate their deceitful, impertinent little trysts because they served his purpose, immediate and long-term, but such indiscretions would not be flaunted within the Palace where Palpatine had other, larger games in play.

In the short term Jade bought him one more way to control Skywalker, however covertly. A valuable consideration, all things considered. She would never abscond and she would never betray him. Let the boy grow attached; Palpatine had already warned him repeatedly not to. That was the wonderful irony of it; despite all Palpatine's warnings that she would be a weakness- his _demonstration_ of the fact- Luke had allowed her close anyway. So when Palpatine finally did use her to control him, Luke had no-one but himself to blame; certainly that was the lesson Palpatine would be looking to underline.

And he would need new control soon; he was beginning to question whether his old methods would work anymore. Still, one must be prepared to adapt- and Palpatine had always been flexible.

It would be a pity to think that he would never again be able to resort to the cell beneath the Palace as a means of controlling his fallen Jedi, but the boy was more Sith now than Jedi, and Palpatine doubted very much that it would hold him anymore. The barest shade of a private smile lifted bloodless lips into a shallow grin; yes, it would be a pity- he had always enjoyed their… exchanges on that particular battlefield, all civilized façades finally stripped away…

He settled back now, watching his Jedi closely as he stood at the front of the bridge, his iron determination not to turn or be intimidated beneath the Emperor's gaze blasting out, as enjoyably wilful as ever.

Yes, it would be hard to confine him again - to suppress and subdue by force…. but then perhaps he didn't need it any more; the boy's actions at the Patriot's launch had surprised Palpatine in their decisiveness and their commitment.

That was why he was here now; he was ready for the next step.  
His wolf was finally walking to heel… even if it still growled occasionally.

He narrowed yellow-flecked eyes, reflecting on his feral Jedi's last visit to the cell, regretting the knowledge it would be just that. No matter how willing his wolf was to walk to heel, it would not tolerate further confinement; that had been crystal clear.

He remembered distinctly standing in the dark Ops room opposite the dedicated detention cell in the depths of the Palace monolith, watching the image within the nearby cell closely, waiting for Skywalker to wake from the drugs, very much aware that this would be a test of wills; though the specialized detention cell had been heavily augmented to allow for his burgeoning powers, it was now at the limits of technology. Skywalker knew his own abilities and he knew his own mind like never before. Now was the acid test.

The reason that he was here- that he had disobeyed his Master once too often and pushed just a little too far- would not come to Skywalker's mind yet; only his outrage at being caged.

And the always-harsh punishment for such disruptive behavior would also wait, often days, while Skywalker remained in confinement to consider his actions- and await their inevitable consequences.

Because when the punishment was finally metered out- often over several days- it was without limits or mercy… as he had often said to the boy; a lesson taught ruthlessly and relentlessly seldom needed to be taught twice.

Palpatine watched as he came around slowly now, fighting the effect of the drugs which would remain in his system to some degree until an antidote was administered to counter their self-replicating attributes- another means to control his emerging Sith advocate.

Still, it didn't take Skywalker long to realize where he was and drag himself unsteadily upright in response. He glanced to the door, but didn't even bother trying to reach it. Instead he shouted out, then turned directly to one of the security nodes; had it been a lens, Palpatine was certain the boy would have shattered it, but it was simply one in a series of staggered sensor relay nodes scattered about the interior of the thick cell walls which combined to create a single holographic image in the Ops room, so there was no specific place to aim his frustration at.

It didn't take him long to find one. He turned about, staggering against dizziness, shouting out again. When no-one came, he crouched down on his haunches, head tucked in, eyes closed…

Palpatine sensed the energy swarm as the boy called the Force to him, an all-encompassing inrush of raw power fed by fear and frustration and anger, and it tugged the Sith Emperor's bloodless lips into a tense, expectant smile.

For long seconds the boy continued to pull power in, head down, immersed completely in the act until it whirled about him like a twister searching to ground…

Then his hands dropped to the floor as fists as he focused the power, throwing it out about him, incredible, elemental energy flawlessly focused-

The impact was felt in the Ops room as a dull thud, several alarms activating, runs of numbers and estimates running up a nearby status screen. Palpatine flinched at the intense Force-directed blow, eyes never leaving the holo.

In the cell, the floor beneath Skywalker had indented in a perfect dish, the two nearest walls compressing in an inverted dome, the ceiling crazing as it did the same. Combined, they described the curve of a perfect, invisible sphere about him as he crouched at its centre, glancing about.

"There's been a sixteen percent reduction in the overall integrity of the structure, Excellency." The nervous Ops guard watched the figures scroll up. His hand hovered over a series of marked keys, awaiting the command- but the Emperor only smiled.

"No- give him that." Palpatine said, pleased, doubting the boy would have the strength left to try the same trick again, especially in his present state.

With several refinements, the cell had been constructed very much the same as the one which Lord Vader had first used to control his wayward son when he had caught him at Bespin.

It was a complex structure, one room within another, the outer room with feet-thick cast and cabled walls under vacuum, the inner room an interlocking series of heavy reinforced panels depending upon the vacuum which pulled them outwards to maintain integrity. Designed to withstand several times vacuum, the overlapping, interlocking structure of the walls was practically indestructible; if a Force-sensitive tried to destroy the cell by outward pressure, they only increased the wall's strength, and if he pulled them inwards and the walls began to lose integrity, the vacuum pressure would automatically be increased to augment them. In the unheard-of event of the structural failure of the inner-cell walls, the resultant equalizing of vacuum would knock anyone within the room unconscious.

It was an ingenious, practical solution to the problem of holding a Jedi, used with great success following the Clone Wars, never once failing…

Skywalker lowered his head and the inrush of power this time was sharp as a knife, heaved in on a massive, expansive scale, pulled tight as a bowstring, incredible capacity converging on a single spot, raw power held suspended, waiting for focus-

Palpatine paused, breathless…

The release was like a bomb detonating, the shockwave of sufficient density to rattle the reinforced door of the cell and jolt the eardrums of the guards lining the hall beyond, making them start nervously, blasters raising, eyes to the cell as the warning light above the door flashed.

"Integrity just went down another twenty-nine percent. Multiple fissures in the inner wall; three structural fractures to the outer assembly. The system is ramping vacuum to compensate." The man was audibly shaken by this, turning to the Emperor.

Palpatine remained still, head set to one side where he had braced against the outburst, eyes on the hologram of the cell as the dust which had scattered down from the ceiling cleared and the image-nodes recovered from the static burst of shock.

The walls were deeply inset now by the craters which still maintained a perfect sphere about Skywalker, long cracks crazing their surface, parts of the casing having broken free to show the heavier interlocking plassteel structure beneath.

He lifted his head to survey the damage and Palpatine leaned in slightly, narrowing his eyes. The pressure change of the outburst in the confined space had been great enough this time to affect Skywalker, though he must have shielded himself. But his nose was bloody, a burst of scarlet red spattered against the plain white of the featureless clothes he was always dressed in for his confinement.

If he was aware of the fact then he ignored it, glancing about him only momentarily before he lowered his head again in concentration, the scale of his influence ramping up again, building like static, grating in like nails down chalkboard, like blades on steel, still fed by that same iron resolve and unmeasured power-

"If he increases the strike by the same degree Excellency, both outer and inner walls _will_ suffer structural failure…" The Ops guard turned tensely, hand still hovering over the same three toggle switches, knowing that he could render the volatile prisoner unconscious in seconds by activating them.

Palpatine considered for long seconds, torn between the fascinated desire to see just what the boy was capable of if pushed to his limits, and his intention that the cell remain indestructible to his Jedi's mind……

"Wait," he said calmly at last, "I will speak to him."

The man nodded, biting down on the wish to tell the Emperor to hurry.

Luke hunched down again, tucking his head in, pulling in focus…

The door slid open with the slightest hiss of equalizing air, pulling the dust up again in a flurry against the bright light from the corridor beyond which made Luke squint as he turned.

"Stop it." Palpatine's voice was indifferent and dismissive as he walked into the room, the door closing behind him with a hermetic hiss. He crossed casually without pausing or looking to Luke, "You damage nothing but yourself."

Luke lurched up, incensed, but the action made his head spin and he staggered back a step, shouting out his frustration. Palpatine paused at that, finally turning to face him, sulfurous yellow eyes staring out intently from the dark shadows of the heavy crimson cowl he wore, disapproval and demand hardening them. But the boy wouldn't yield.

"You can't hold me here! Not any more!"

Palpatine said nothing, merely stood with his back to the ruined wall and watched patronizingly, as a father would watch a child's tantrum.

"This won't hold me! It _can't_ hold me and you know it!"

Skywalker stumbled back another step, the venom in his voice fed by Palpatine's composed distain.

"You're right." The Sith Master allowed, "But then we both know that this cage is more than walls and bars."

Luke fell silent, his train of thought broken, though Palpatine knew from his wild eyes and his tense stance that he didn't yet have control of his Wolf.

"This is a far stronger cage, and you build it about yourself." The Emperor shook his head, gesturing to the sealed door, "There is the door- open it."

Skywalker wheeled about, still unsteady on his feet but no less determined. He lifted his hand…

"But know that if you do, it will cost the lives of everyone you know here- _everyone_. Right now. The order is already in place; I need only activate it with a word."

The boy faltered fractionally beneath the threat, knowing it was real- and even though his back was to the Emperor, Palpatine grinned, knowing he had him, his voice mocking now.

"See? Already the price is too high." He shook his head, disdainful and derisive, "You're contemptibly weak. Pitifully easy to manipulate."

"You don't have nearly as much control as you think."

There was fire in his voice as the boy turned, eyes and sense boiling with barely-controlled fury, and Palpatine knew it was the truth. This would not be the easy victory it had been before; there were fewer chains of self-restraint which held his Wolf in check now, and barely enough control yet to bind him- but there was sufficient, if he managed it with care.

"Then walk out of the door"

"And then what _Master_?" the boy said, "What have you left to hang over my head if they were dead?"

"I have other means." the Sith assured, "I would not relinquish my Wolf so easily."

The boy remained silent, chest still heaving from his exertion, sense wildly volatile.

Palpatine stood his ground, unmoved. "You think you can escape- that you can run. You think you can hide from _me_? Don't be naïve. The galaxy isn't big enough anymore. You'll never again be beyond my reach because I know _exactly_ what you are willing to pay for your freedom and I know what cost you would consider too high. _That_ is your weakness; you can be bought like anybody else- not with money or power, but with the lives of others. Beings you don't even know. _That_ is how weak you are."

Palpatine stepped in close. "I have no such weakness. I would track you down a step at a time and I would leave death and destruction in my wake, because I _know_ that you would react- that you cannot help but do otherwise. Every being that you've touched, spoken to, dealt with. Every planet, every system- everyone. At what point would the death toll be too high? At what point would your resolve snap?But it wasn't the easy victory it would once have been; he wheeled about, realizing the emperors triumph and incensed by it"

"And if _I_ were dead?"

The Emperor narrowed cold yellow eyes, gaze hardening at his Jedi's words. It was a genuine ultimatum, the threat implicit- and it was to be stamped out decisively. "That would not stay my hand in the slightest, Jedi; I would still take my revenge.

"I would take it from the hide of every creature you had _ever_ known. I would make it my mission to see them scream so pitifully that you would hear them from the pit of hell and know that it was _you_ who had brought this upon them- _your_ actions which condemned them; _you_ who turned my wrath upon them. And their kin and their species and their planet. My revenge would span systems… it would be a long time before my anger was satiated, I promise you that."

The boy held silent before the vehemence of this relentless, heartfelt tirade, jaw clenching, eyes filled with impotent fury at the unreserved threat he had brought down on everyone he had ever known. He had little of his old life left- Palpatine had long since ripped it to tatters in an effort to control him- but what still remained was precious to him, even when the memory and the reality were galaxies apart. And Palpatine knew it.

"You're weak." The Sith accused again, as Skywalker turned his gaze down, struggling to hold focus beneath the drag of the drugs now that his adrenaline was waning. "I've told you before- if you hold a weakness then those about you will always use it against you."

Skywalker said nothing, remained silent, eyes burning with indignation as he looked back up to his tormentor.

"Say it." Palpatine invited tritely, the slightest of sardonic smiles on his bloodless lips, knowing that the boy would speak. That this interaction, no matter what the circumstances, had been established the first day Vader had brought him here- long before his Jedi had first been confined to this cell.

"Compassion isn't a…"

"Compassion is the most pathetic vulnerability- it was always the weakness of the Jedi." Palpatine's words cut into him, laced with disgust, "Ask any of them- but of course you cannot."

Skywalker's sense wavered just slightly and that was enough for Palpatine to lash out, knowing he'd won.

"Do you think it was compassion that gave you the strength to face down your father- do you think it was compassion that gifted you the power to bring him low? Do you think that those whom you humble yourself to protect would show the same compassion to you- have they ever? They used you and the fault is yours because you allowed yourself to be used- to be manipulated. There is no room for such atrocious, glaring flaws here. When you cure yourself of it, every door will be open to you but until then someone will always control you- you will always be in a prison of your own making."

As he spoke, Palpatine's voice calmed, so that by the end of his tirade, it was more frustration than anger which drove it. He stepped in close to the boy, yellow-flecked eyes searching palest blue; "Do you want to be controlled your whole life? Do you want to be no more than your father?"

Skywalker's chin lifted at that though he didn't speak, so Palpatine delivered his final caveat.

"A true Sith has no weakness. Cure yourself of this failing or I will do it for you- in the most conclusive way possible."

He held the boy's eyes for several moments longer, the threat clear, then turned and walked to the exit of the cell, the heavy doors hissing open as he reached them, guards lining the corridor beyond, weapons trained.

"I will return tomorrow and we will talk further."

He walked out before the boy had time to react to the realization that he was to remain confined. The inner door slid shut behind him, the outer one closing with the hiss of a hermetic seal.

The power which slammed against it a second later was considerable, but only a fraction of that which his Jedi was capable of; little more than a burst of frustration at the comprehension of his ever-contracting options.


	26. Chapter 26

Hallin breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way past the staged blast doors close to the Destroyer's bridge, glad to be free of the Emperor's close scrutiny, though quite obviously the fact was that he couldn't have been farther from the Emperor's thoughts. Still, he wondered again how Luke could stand to be the subject of the Emperor's close and critical scrutiny day after day. Why he stayed at all.  
But then Palpatine was a master of manipulations, playing complex mistruths and malicious misdirections and veiled suggestions with subtle ease and devastating effect, some glimpse of which had been afforded Hallin in discussion with Luke earlier that year.

It had followed yet another internment in the cell beneath the Palace – his most recent, though that was now five months ago. When first they'd happened, and Luke had no-one whom he particularly trusted here, no-one had known the specifics of where Luke disappeared to, often for days or weeks at a time, always following some antagonism or challenge of the Emperor on Luke's part, be it private or public. The official line – and one quickly learned _never_ to question the official line here – was that Luke had been retained on a classified assignment by the Emperor, and would return when it was complete. Slowly though, without ever needing to address the facts directly, Hallin had realized the truth, though it had been years before he'd dared to ask others in Luke's close retinue whether they too knew. Jade knew – had always known; was in some way involved, Hallin suspected – though neither she nor Luke ever made mention of it.

All Hallin knew for sure was that when he returned Luke remained quiet, reserved and introvert for days, as much out of exhaustion and injury as from the trial of facing off against Palpatine one more time.

But the onerous ordeals which had once been common lessened over time, in number if not in content, as the Emperor found new ways to control or chastise. This last time had been no different, Luke reappearing after four days, battered and scuffed, walking slowly and painfully from the main entrance, where Clem had announced his unexpected arrival, to his private quarters, one hand to the wall, ordering anyone who came forward away in clipped, breathless tones. Hallin had long since learned not to go; to let Luke make his own way back no matter what his condition, knowing that it was a matter of principle for Luke that he walked even this last stretch alone.

When he'd first been returned to the cell beneath the Palace fro chastisement, Palpatine had set in place the that on his release, Luke was always taken, unconscious, to the Emperor's apartments, the first medical treatment he recieved always by Palpatine's medics. The established routing became that until Luke was capable of standing and walking the long distance from the Emperor's apartments back to his own under his own power, he was not allowed to leave. If he tried too early and failed, Luke was returned to Palpatine's apartments exhausted, his recovery that much delayed for his exertion. Another little trial put in place for no other reason that Palpatine's amusement, Nathan suspected. Another little wordless battle of wills between himself and his Jedi.

So tonight, as he always did, Nathan forced himself to wait in Luke's private quarters, biding his time and making what little medical diagnosis he could from six paces away, and biting his tongue against the need to offer solace. It was well past midnight, and Luke collapsed down onto his bed still-dressed, Nathan leaving him exactly as he was, knowing better than to try to help undress him, instead sitting down on the chaise to the far side of the huge room. Just once, Luke had glanced to Nathan, daring him to make comment, but Nathan had looked away with a self-effacing 'we both know this game' shrug, and Luke had let his eyes drift closed, giving in to exhaustion as Nathan had remained, quietly watchful throughout the night.

Nathan had remained close fro the next few days, though Luke would seldom tolerate any attention, medical or otherwise. Instead he'd remain silent and insular, clearly playing the same thoughts over and over in his head, and all Nathan could do was wait for the explanation which it took Luke almost another two days to put into words, and even then in only the vaguest terms to begin with.

He remembered distinctly sitting in patient, attentive silence, watching the warm orange glow as the sun slowly settled to dusky copper. Remembered wondering if he would have to wait out another long day in silence until Luke had put his thoughts in order sufficiently to voice them, when Luke looked up to Nathan and, as if this was the continuation of a long-standing discussion, asked, "Do you believe it's possible to spontaneously create life?"

Nathan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question which had clearly been running endlessly through Luke's thoughts for days now.

"I suppose…." Nathan considered, pulling his thoughts together, aware of expectant eyes on him. "I suppose scientifically I must- at some point, life was created from the random interaction of certain molecules which maintained integrity. A single-cell organism came into being. Every life-form is another expression of that random interaction; the biological creation of a new species, the driving force of nature to evolve. The whole galaxy is a manifestation of the spontaneous creation of life."

"But do you think it's possible to spontaneously create complex life- a human life?"

"Human life? No, I don' believe so. If it were, there would be documented cases."

"But you said yourself that nature seeks to evolve- to push the boundaries of potential. And even a human life begins with the division of a single cell."

"But there must be an outside catalyst which stimulates that cell division. It can't happen in isolation."

"There are species which can spontaneously conceive."

"But they're not human. Their physiology is very different; it's taken literally millennia for that ability to evolve. Human physiology requires an outside influence."

Luke had moved uncomfortably against aches and pains, his bruises still darkening from angry scarlet to deep purple. "What if that outside influence were the Force?"

Nathan set his head to one side, prepared to continue the debate because it had so clearly been praying on Luke's mind, though he felt he was charting unknown territory, "Now you're asking me to comment outside of my field of expertise. I suppose my answer would have to be, you tell me?"

Luke looked away, forehead furrowed in thought, seeking to follow the argument through to its natural conclusion; "We're talking about the division of a single cell... the Force can operate at a molecular level within the body- that's how we heal ourselves."

"So then, are you saying that a Jedi would have the potential to create life within their own system?"

"But we can use the ability to heal on others too. The Force is, at its most basic level, a molecular entity. I don't make a conscious decision to work at a molecular level and I'm not specifically aware of doing so, but if I can reach into another body and manipulate the organisms within at that level to destroy an infection or disperse a drug, with the proper knowledge surely I would be able to divide a single cell?"

Nathan shifted uncomfortably, "Are you intending to do so?"

Luke glanced up, shocked that Nath would even consider him willing to try such a thing, "Me? No- no of course not. I'm just…" He trailed off, leaving Nathan to gaze at him uneasily, searching the reason for this sudden intense preoccupation.

Luke remained silent for a long time, lost in thought again, mind clearly racing. When he finally looked up it was with another question, "If, theoretically, a Force-sensitive were able to do that- to manipulate the Force and induce life _in another human being_… would the life which had been created have any real link to its creator? Would it carry its creator's characteristics as if they had been a physical donor, good and bad? Or would it be solely a creation of the Force- and if so, would it carry the fingerprint, the orientation, of that which had been used to create it?

"Those are big questions," Nathan said gravely, but Luke's eyes steady on him made him consider. "Theoretically - medically - it would carry only the genetic makeup of the human parent. Only their DNA could be present so only their DNA would be available for use. So you're effectively talking about a type of clone."

"But would the Force itself - the midichlorians which induced the cell-split - become the second donor? If it did, that child would hold an unprecedented midichlorian count… a connection at a more basic level than any before. But if that were so, then would the aspect of the Force used to create it, be the aspect of the Force which to which it would be inescapably attuned?"

Realization slowly dawned on Nathan that this was a more personal discussion than it seemed. "Are you... talking about yourself?"

Luke shook his head just slightly, "No... no, I'm talking about my father - and Palpatine.."

Nathan fell to a shocked, considered silence as the far-reaching implications slowly dawned.

It went to Luke then, to ask the next logical question, one that he clearly didn't want to believe possible but he felt he had to consider; "Could the genetic footprint of the instigator be passed on through the Force? Would they be, to all intents and purposes, a biological donor?

"I don't think so- individual genetic make-up is incredibly complex."

"So is the Force. It has the ability to influence a sentient mind, to affect individual perceptions and memories, to communicate without words even over extended distances. Human DNA is at its most basic a construct- it has mathematical, reproducible margins. Could that pattern of DNA be reproduced by the Force- and if so, would that constitute a biological link? "

Nathan was silent for long moments. "That's… that's way out of my experience or field of knowledge. Anything I said would at best be conjecture. Without proof, it's all little more than speculation and supposition anyway."

Luke nodded thoughtfully and fell to silence for a few seconds. When he looked up again his voice was very sure, as if voicing his agreement with Nathan. "I need a sample of Palpatine's blood."

The words left Nath near-speechless.

"Anything else?" He managed at last, voice high with shock.

"Yes- Vader's."

"Of course! Whilst I'm at it, why don't I get you a sample of….." Nathan struggled to finish the sentence; "I'd say something even more outrageous but I think you've actually topped off the scale there."

"I realise it will be difficult,"

"Difficult?!"

"But this is important, Nath." Luke said, voice steel. "To me- to everything I'm trying to do."

"Is it though? What would really change if it were true, aside from your self-perception?"

Luke shook his head, "I won't be the next Palpatine."

Nathan glanced down, uneasy, "You're not Palpatine."

"I'm getting a little more like him every day. I can see it Nath, so I don't believe you can't."

"You're learning to deal with him- to operate within that world, to use it to your advantage, that's all."

"The logical conclusion of that statement is that in order to nullify Palpatine, I would have to become him." Luke argued quietly. "He once… he once said to me - when I asked him why he didn't kill me when he first saw me - he said, _'Darkness recognises its own'_."

Nathan paused, choosing his words with care, "You know that this is what Palpatine does- that he'll use any means to…"

"No. that's an excuse; a validation. I can't _afford_ to be ignorant. When…" Luke glanced down, frowning. "When I was in the cell six days ago Palpatine said that the only thing stopping me from leaving was my own weakness- my own conscience. He said that if I opened the door, the price would be paid in lives. The lives of those around me."

"That isn't a weakness Luke- I think you know that."

Luke lifted his head, stared at Nathan in silence for long seconds. "I nearly did it. I seriously thought about opening the door - just gong ahead and opening it anyway - I can't tell you how close I came."

Nathan knew that he had been watching the weight of that knowledge settle on Luke's shoulders for the past few days as his friend finally voiced his greatest fear;

"What if that's all I am- all I can be? If Vader was created by Darkness, then how can I be anything more? Palpatine fell by choice, but what about my father? There _is_ still good in him, I can feel that- some part of him that wasn't consumed. Perhaps he still thinks he's simply playing the game when he stands beside Palpatine, just as I do. I have to know, Nath- I have to know that when I play Palpatine's games, I can still step back. I have to _know_ that I won't get lost in that game."

"You won't get lost," Nathan assured, "You haven't yet."

Luke shook his head, "Is that what my father thought? What if he did the wrong thing for the right reasons… because he simply didn't have that ability within him to recognise the difference- to step back. And if he couldn't do that because of what he is… how can I?"

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Eight days in to its maiden voyage and having left the Peerless and the Dauntless behind in its last brief emergence from hyperspace in dead space at the edge of Sullust, the Patriot was reaching the end of her journey, somewhere in the Moddell or Ablajeck Sectors as far as Luke could calculate based on time and some vague, indistinct sense of direction, though it could just as easily be the Spar or Vivenda Sectors.

The journey had gone surprisingly smoothly this far in terms of undisclosed secrets, almost too much so, given the situation. It wasn't that Luke was looking for trouble – in fact it seemed that the more secrets he himself held, the less Luke was prepared to rock the boat – but in his experience, life seldom went the way one hoped, and if it did, then it was generally the lull before the storm.

Now, Luke walked beside his Master on the vast bridge, Palpatine yet again discussing the events which had marked the new Destroyer's launch, Luke lost in his thoughts, remembering how easy it had been to turn on the Rebels; to validate their removal as somehow being in their own greater interests.

"What is relevant is that this signifies a substantial change in tactics for them." Palpatine turned slightly as they made their slow way from the rear to the front of the bridge along its outer pathway, voice quiet but still quite audible in the hushed bridge, though to all who heard, this was little more than a discussion of tactics between the Emperor and his Heir.

The subtler game which was hidden beneath the words was theirs alone- and Palpatine was pushing for a reaction. "They're becoming bolder, taking more risks… why do you think that is?"

"Honestly?" Luke said, "I think that without Mothma to hold him in check, Madine is beginning to make his presence felt amongst the leadership there."

He had expected the name of one of Palpatine's officers, long since defected to the Rebellion, to have a greater effect but in fact Palpatine remained silent for several seconds as they walked before asking casually, "Is that what your spy thinks?"

Luke didn't turn round but kept walking as he stated evenly, "Yes. And yours?"

He had no proof that his Master had managed to place another spy among the Rebels, but for the safety of Argot, he needed to find out, so the game played on. Palpatine paused to gaze out of the long, wide viewscreen, clearly not wishing to be drawn. But the lack of answer was an answer in itself, Luke knew.

Still, he was aware of his Master's subtle curiosity as Palpatine tried a different thread, seeking to clarify his own unspoken suspicions. "Perhaps it is Leia Organa. She is after all the new leader of the Rebellion."

Luke didn't hesitate or make any move to defend her. "Perhaps. She has a more military perspective than Mothma ever did, and she'll doubtless feel the need to establish herself."

Brief flash-images of Leia's face seared through his thoughts - of the moment when he'd turned on her group with a vengeance, of the fear in her eyes when the choking smoke had cleared and she had turned to him, horrified.  
Where was the line then? Had he crossed it in attacking at all, even when he knew they were already betrayed, or had he simply sought to buy Leia's life with that of those about her, his eye on the greater picture. Acceptable losses. The wrong thing for the right reasons – or was that the other way around?

His fear was no longer whether he could play the game- it had become far more whether he knew when to stop.

The Emperor spoke on, still pushing to find some perceived weakness, and Luke tried to concentrate, to hide gnawing doubts from his Master's searching mind as Palpatine sought to lay subtle traps. "In your opinion, is this the kind of action she would instigate?"

He shrugged, aware that Palpatine was seeking to get a reading of his opinion of Leia, given her convenient escape, but unwilling to supply one. "It's a long time since I last spoke with her. Time changes people."

"Still, you knew her well."

Palpatine paused before the forward viewscreen, looking into the maelstrom of lightspeed without truly seeing. Luke kept his expression and his thoughts guarded, aware that his Master's acute senses were trained on him. Was this an idle discussion; a taunt, no more - a reminder of his former naivety - or was Palpatine aware that something was amiss but unable as yet to chase it down?

Whatever else it was, the conversation certainly wasn't a genuine request for opinions; Palpatine did as he pleased regardless of those around him.

"Based on past experience I'd say that she wouldn't shirk from this kind of action if it were suggested." Luke replied calmly, shaking his head slightly, forcing his mind to focus past the distracting images which burned into his thoughts. "All the beings who advise her at present are military in outlook and experience- I'd say it's inevitable that she would develop a more militaristic attitude."

"Do you think I should remove her?"

"I think you should remove the Rebellion entirely, but that seems to be proving difficult." Luke dodged neatly. Was he failing to see the desert for the dunes? Something bigger was going on here, carefully hidden behind Luke's own smaller, more routine concerns; he was uneasy about Mara and the Rebels, his thoughts distracted. Was this a diversionary tactic? Carefully played along by his Master, was Luke failing to ask the bigger question, which was…. what?

Luke frowned, mind split between his Master's words and the reason for his speaking them. The big question was... Why was Palpatine here at all?

"Perhaps I should place a bounty on her head?" The Emperor pushed.

"I would be very surprised if you hadn't already."

Palpatine let out a small laugh at that before trying another lure. "Heh, perhaps I should send you after her?"

Luke didn't flinch; "Perhaps you should give me sole responsibility for pursuing the Rebellion in its entirety."

Again Palpatine laughed, clearly amused at Luke's single-minded determination. "You've wanted this for a long time."

Luke half-turned, completely drawn in by the conversation now, though he remained silent, knowing when to push and when to allow the Emperor time to feel that a decision had been reached by his own will.

It was, of course true that he wanted responsibility for the insurgents turned over to him. Not for the reasons he allowed his Master to believe, though Luke had to admit that Palpatine's teachings had probably influenced his view on how to deal with this.

As his Master was so fond of saying, knowledge was power, and if he intended to move forward from the status-quo which had existed between Empire and Rebellion for the last two decades then Luke needed, no matter how covertly, to move information both ways through contacts in the Rebellion. It was the only way to contain them– to direct them. He'd always sought to take command of dealing with the Rebellion from his father, knowing that Vader's deeply-set opinion of those he pursued would mean that he'd never allow Luke to establish contact, even to his own ends; that, fearing a split in Luke's loyalties, Vader would do everything in his considerable power to stop him.

Whilst responsibility for the Rebellion rested with Vader, Luke knew he would always be reliant on his father's good will, which was tenuous at best. Notwithstanding their recent cooperation, that facts remained unchanged. Luke still hadn't revealed his ultimate goals to his father nor did he have any intention to do so, because whilst their relationship had settled, Luke had to admit that he didn't for one moment actually _trust_ his father. Couldn't depend on him not to place his own goals before Luke's, as he always had. And whilst that fact remained, Luke still needed to gain control of the anti-insurgency taskforce. It was the only way to guarantee access to the Rebellion.

"I will… consider your request." Palpatine allowed into the extended silence, his eyes turning again to the radiant, mottled splendour of hyperspace. "You will have new duties soon – new responsibilities – and I would not like to see your attention too divided. But perhaps in the long term, these undertakings could be made to integrate… yes, I will consider."

"Thank-you Master." Luke murmured, head down to hide his satisfaction.

Less than a day later, he stood in the same spot beside his Master and the game Palpatine had been playing in coming here had taken on a devastating new twist.

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"You disapprove." Palpatine intoned from his position before the viewport, keeping his eyes on the half-constructed battle station which hung like a silvery pearl in the velvet darkness, but growing larger every second - and more unmistakable.

He remained stock still, his senses trained on Skywalker, searching for any telltale sign as the boy stood close by. But there was nothing; he was too accomplished now to allow any chink in his armour, even at this.

"I see no use for it." Skywalker said mildly, hands clasped behind his back as he stood to loose, wary attention, his tone casually dismissive though Palpatine knew his thoughts must be reeling.

They had come out of hyperspace after a nine-day jump, still manoeuvring closer to the massive, partially complete battle station over a verdant green planet whose name Palpatine never could be bothered to remember.

He had walked slowly to the front of the bridge to stand beside his Jedi as helm announced their imminent reversion, wishing to be close when the Patriot came out of hyperspace, the other officers present instinctively withdrawing, leaving them alone.

Now Palpatine turned to his Jedi, watching his jaw tighten as their destination became apparent. Skeletal though it still was, he was sure its familiar shape, the massive dish almost complete, must be firing memories of its predecessor, which Skywalker himself had destroyed over Yavin IV - the act which had first brought him to the Emperor's attention.

"There is always the need to maintain stability." Palpatine said at last, pressing for a reaction.

"Perhaps," his feral Jedi allowed, "But I don't believe it will do that."

"It is a manifestation of my power. Power _is_ stability; one will above all others."

"Too much oppression encourages dissent." The boy was taking care to keep any emotion from his voice or his sense, aware that his Master was looking for a reaction and disinclined to provide one.

"Dissent can be dealt with."

"If you know it exists." Luke said, "And where. This is only a deterrent if you know where to point it. You assume you have a single enemy; they scatter themselves widely for that very reason."

"You will find a target." Palpatine said confidently.

The boy glanced over, realising, and Palpatine brought sharp, yellow-flecked eyes to his Jedi.

"You are charged with the responsibility of completing this project and bringing it online, my friend- it needs a strong hand now to guide it. Your arrival on Coruscant meant that I became remiss in pushing it forward; I had other, more important concerns. But whilst the Rebellion is gone from the Core Systems, it remains very much a presence in the Rim worlds. In retrospect, I believe that perhaps you were right when you claimed that you could do what your father could not."

"The Rim is a difficult area to police-" It was almost a defence, and it brought Palpatine's eyes to the boyimmediately, but he was still staring at the unfinished Death Star, his next words tempering Palpatine's suspicion, his thoughts clearly on the appointed task. "Even this can only be in one place at once."

"That is all it need be, if used properly." Palpatine said. "But any deterrent is only as effective as the hand used to guide it; if I gave this to your father, he would use it without compunction and it would, as you said, only encourage dissent."

"If one has nothing to lose, then why not gamble- why not fight?" The boy said, aware of the paradox, "This is global, impersonal; it can't separate between innocents and insurgents. Retribution is indiscriminate, non-selective."

The boy turned slightly to his Master, knowing that Palpatine wanted to hear that he saw both the disadvantages and the advantages in this. "But you think that's also its strength, because it will make the Rebels unpopular- unwelcome wherever they try to hide. Reprisals would be absolute; unconditional and global. A whole world could potentially pay for the mistakes of one being. Insurgents taking refuge on the far side of a planet could no longer be ignored when by doing so they placed one's own family at risk. There can be no degrees of allowance or tacit disregard when the result will be felt so close to home. Every single being on any given world would have a vested interest in removing such dangers from their own planet - reporting them. Its _existence_ is enough."

Palpatine smiled; the boy had learned his lessons well. He could, he supposed, have invested the same effort in teaching his father – in many ways it would have been far less problematic – but Vader had given up any rights when he had failed to bring down Kenobi. He had lost the power Palpatine had devoted so much to investing in him and in that moment, he had become as every Sith apprentice was in Palpatine's eyes; a commodity. A tool to be used and discarded. A pity; he would have been easier to control than his son - but therein had laid the pleasure… and the satisfaction of leading the boy to this moment.

"You understand - appreciate the delicate nature of such a weapon." He turned to his Jedi, indulgent, "You always were my fine blade."

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Luke's gaze was held completely by the spectre before him, present and past colliding, reducing him to tense, noncommitive silence; he understood- he just didn't necessarily agree.

Though he wasn't naïve enough to say such out loud- or allow even a trace of it to slip through ever-present shields.

So Palpatine continued, believing they were of one accord on this, "When it is operational, it will be assigned to your Fleet, together with a charge to turn it against the Rebellion. You have asked me repeatedly for that assignment and I have always refused, believing you not ready. Your actions onboard the Patriot were exemplary. I am confident now that you are equal to the responsibility; that you will fulfil all obligations that the role requires."

"I don't _need_ this. Give me access to the Rim Systems and I'll take them apart anyway. This will take at least a year to complete - give me that one year and control of Vader's anti-insurgency taskforce..."

Palpatine shook his head as Skywalker spoke, unyielding… and finally he tendered the reward, knowing exactly how to draw his Wolf in with the offer of that which he desired above all else; "No. But when you have completed this weapon… I will give you free run to use it where you see fit, my friend."

For an instant, Luke only stared, speechless… but already, knowing his Master of old, he was examining the details of the offer, considering the implications…

Palpatine gave him what he wanted- at a price.

Always a price.

Luke glanced back at the half-completed monstrosity which hung before him, an echo of a previous life brushing at his soul and leaving deep misgivings. He'd helped destroy its predecessor- was he really willing to help create the progeny? Was he prepared to relinquish so…

He broke the thought, glancing to the small moon behind the skeletal station then out to the stars beyond, looking for a point of reference-

"Where is this?" Immediately Luke tempered the question behind another meaning, "Can we guarantee that it's secure?"

"Yes." Palpatine's gravely voice was imbued with its typical confidence, "It has remained so for some time; we are far enough from the beaten path that we can ensure privacy."

"The planet isn't occupied? It looks habitable."

The Emperor glanced down, tone dismissive as he struggled to even remember the planet's name, "Endor is lost in the Outer Rim, close to the edge of the Unknown Regions. It has no technology and no mineral wealth, therefore no connection with the civilised galaxy- but it does have one thing I need; power."

Luke barely heard, his mind caught up not by Palpatine's offer of eventual free reign beyond the Core Systems _if_ he finished the Emperor's new toy… but by the realisation that acceptance of this task may necessitate a far earlier relaxing of restrictions. He glanced to his Master, a cool, curious expression arranged on his face as his thoughts raced; Endor… _In the Outer Rim_.

The Emperor continued, unaware of Luke's split attention, "I would not leave myould no leave so vital-a project undefended- there are a series of shields projected from the sanctuary moon…"

Luke nodded distantly, the possibilities sparking; Endor. If he took this task then he would be required to travel to the Outer Rim regularly- under covert means, since its existence was clearly classified. Falling off all official and unofficial radars may well enable him to evade the Emperor's close scrutiny too. Just as importantly it would guarantee the one thing that Palpatine had always so vigilantly denied Luke; regular personal access to both the Core and the Rim Fleets.

His mind began to race at the opportunities; he could gradually swap out trusted allies from both fleets on the pretext of manning the construction; institute a line of command which would give him absolute control here. The amount of supplies and technology coming in would be vast- it would be easy to appropriate and re-route part of it; expand and reinforce the 701st at a far faster rate than he'd anticipated. Double their size and split them between the Peerless and the Patriot- then again between the Patriot and this station. He'd already left a contingent covertly scattered aboard the Peerless along with a reliable Captain; if and when he chose to move, together they would guarantee the loyalty of the Peerless.

Which gave him the Peerless, the Patriot, the Executor… and now this. Plus reliable Star Destroyer Captains and Command Staff on many others, combined with deep-cover operatives from the 701st who could guarantee that those trusted officers maintained command at the allotted time…

His Master droned on and Luke nodded from time to time, mind still reeling at the potential…

Once – just once more – he saw again the Death Star, remembered his past convictions… but they were gone in an instant, quashed beneath realisation of the opportunity which presented itself here. He was after all not intending to aid Palpatine; this was the opportunity to do all that those distant memories had desired- to bring the Emperor down.

In his bitter, blind desire for ever more power Palpatine had been the architect of all that Luke had lost; it was only fitting that the ultimate statement of that power should be pivotal in his downfall.

He _could not_ turn this down- all he saw now was potential.

His Master was right; Power _was_ stability - one will above all others… just not Palpatine's.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

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"Corlion, Massa." Han offered a native Corellian greeting as he came to a stop opposite Tag Massa the Intel Chief, in the crowded Mess onboard Home One.

When he had to ask a favour of someone, he always liked to underline any connection, no matter how vague- and he had to admit that coming from the same planet and therefore sharing the same native language was about as vague-a connection as you could get, but it was all he had. That and Massa's friendship with Leia, which was why he was here in the first place.

From the look in Tag Massa's eyes when she glanced warily up to him, she was clearly thinking the same. Mildly embarrassed before that calculating gaze, he switched back to Basic, "Uh… this seat taken?"

"Help yourself," She turned back to the automemo she was studying.

"Interesting?" Han asked, hoping to prompt a conversation.

Massa didn't look up. "Everything's interesting to an Intel officer."

"Yeah, so I hear." Han said, wondering how soon he could politely come to the point; this was as close to politics as he got - aside from when he got Leia in a clinch - and it was already too close for comfort.

Fortunately Tag made it easy- she had a habit of doing that, for the favoured few. "I'm assuming this is going somewhere, Solo?"

"Why's that?"

"Well, you've just finished a ten-hour Duty Shift and you're not even out of your flightsuit yet but you want to pass the time with me. Plus you haven't got anything to eat and yet you're wandering around the Mess Hall. Plus your friend the Wookiee is sat over there doing a bad job of trying to look casually disinterested. If you've hatched some plot up you always involve him, and if you haven't you always sit with him."

Han raised his eyebrows; well, 'make it easy' may be a bit of an overstatement. "Wow you're good."

"Yes I am." She glanced up for a second, eyebrows lifting expectantly. "And you're procrastinating."

"Okay… see… here's the point."

"Care to make it a little sharper?"

"I'm getting' there, don't rush me." Han tried his best hurt/offended look, which fazed the Intel Chief not one bit.

"Really, seriously; spit it out 'cos this is getting painful."

"I want in on the Patriot thing." Han blurted out.  
Great; he'd had this whole speech worked out - spent the last ten hours cramped up in that A-Wing cockpit staring at the back end of a freighter and cooking up a whole story about being interested in getting into the Intel field, all that stuff about changing career and looking for an opportunity to…

"What Patriot thing?" She held his eye for a few seconds, confused… then sighed ruefully, turning away, "Ah, hell, it's not worth even _trying_ that one on you, is it?"

Massa's Intel had been watching the Patriot very closely since its inaugural flight waiting to see where The Heir would point his new super-weapon, and there'd been a lot of nervous faces onboard Home-One when the Destroyer had first disappeared into hyperspace. But so far it had been decidedly quiet for a ground-breaking weapon - which was more worrying than if it had gone hunting in many ways.

So they'd called in a lot of favours and used up a lot of funds and gotten a few sets of fake ID's, and now they were engineering a little gap in the duty roster before they set it all in motion.

"C'mon Tag, let me in on it- I can do this."

"Do you know how many experienced undercover ops' I have just waiting for an opportunity like this?"

"Yeah? How many of them have experience as an Imperial Officer?"

"You were kicked _out_."

"Because I didn't _like_ the routines, not because I didn't know 'em." he defended gamely.

"You were kicked out for insubordination, Solo." Massa said, pointing to herself, "Intel Officer, remember?"

Han opened his arms, palms up, "Hey, I'm gonna stick with; 'Cos I didn't _like_ the routines, not because I didn't _know_ 'em."

She sighed, setting down her automemo, "Why do you want to go, Solo- really?"

He shrugged, "I think I'd be good at…"

"I said _really_." Sharp eyes met his own, "Don't lie to me."

Han paused for an instant beneath that calculating gaze, "You know why."

"Yes I do, and that's why I can't let you. You'd endanger the mission. Do you know what it took to get those documents?"

"Well then don't waste them- give 'em to me. Tag, I can get results."

"For the Alliance- not for your own little crusade."

"C'mon Tag- give me this. I'm a good bet and you know it."

She stared a long time into his face, knowing that he was right; he had the experience, he was cool under pressure and he knew his stuff. If she turned him down out of hand, then she did herself no favours. But she wasn't so stupid as to miss why exactly he wanted this mission. She leaned back considering, aware of his eyes on her but unfazed; if he thought staring at her was gonna psyche her out, then he was sorely mistaken.

Eventually she sighed though, not particularly wishing to alienate him; he was one of the mandates of her mission here and that alone was pause for consideration. Plus her Chief clearly had some kind of connection to him, though he'd never admit it out loud.

Which was why it wasn't her call to make; it needed to go to Command. _Oh, to be there in person,_ Massa thought; _To see his face when this was passed on_- that Solo had found out about the Patriot mission and he actually _wanted_ onboard. What would the Chief think of that- no doubt it would amuse him greatly. Yes- she would need a few days to check what he wanted to do, how he wanted to proceed… but she would bet her last credit he'd say let Solo go. She absently let the edges of her lips curl up, amused at that thought, and Solo raised his brow in question, making Tag sit up straight, firmly wiping the smile from her face.

"I need time to consider - I won't be rushed into a decision."

"Absolutely."

She narrowed her eyes, "That wasn't an agreement Solo- I'll think about it. That's all I can say."

"Fine- that's all I ask." He rose to leave, re-tieing the sleeves of his baggy flight suit around his waist where he'd stripped the top half off to his undershirt below. "Maybe if I get something useful I can finally get Madine off my back."

Massa smiled dryly, voicing her doubts, "I think you'd need to actually come back with The Heir for that."

"I'll bet he'd find some excuse to lambast me even then. Probably bust my ass for being in the company of a known enemy- see that _must be_ proof I'm an Imperial spy."

Massa shrugged, frowning up at him, unfazed by his sardonic wit. "Trust's a strange thing, Solo- sometimes even when the facts are right in front of you it's hard to see them. At the end of the day, either you do or you don't. And even then if someone keeps on putting ideas in your head, it's a hard thing to hang on to."

Han folded his arms, very sure. "No its not. It's the easiest thing in the world. Either you do or you don't. Doesn't matter what anybody says, you go with your gut."

"That what you do?"

"Every time. And don't tell me that you don't."

"Oh I do." Massa turned her attention back to her automemo. "More than you know."

.

.

.

Nathan stepped quickly into Luke's ready-room aboard the Patriot, aware that he wouldn't have much time. He made a polite bow from the neck as he entered, the bright, artificial light of the Koornacht Cluster Shipyards casting harsh shadows within.

They were due to get underway to the Rim again in less than a day, their third such trip in the last two months, Luke having already spent long hours poring over documentation relating to the 'project' at Endor, which had now been codenamed 'Redress'- for whom Nathan didn't know.  
But he did know how much time had already been invested in making Project Redress amenable to Luke's less obvious aims, the ones shared with the trusted few. They all saw the potential of course- now they were looking for the flaws; the traps and the pitfalls, the carefully hidden snares. When they'd cleared them all away, they could begin work.

So this wasn't exactly the ideal time to be adding to the problems, Hallin knew, and particularly not with one as delicate as this- but he would be remiss in his duties, both as an ally and a friend, if he chose not to report this simply because it was difficult.

He'd sent Luke a short message which was innocent enough at first glance but had one of several pre-arranged phrases within it which signalled him to empty his room. Luke had done so, charging Mara, who was on bodyguard duty this morning, with a task elsewhere.

Now he looked up from his wide desk as Hallin entered, eyes sharp and tense, the question unspoken.

Hallin stepped forward, coming straight to the point, "I overheard a couple of conversations when I was in the medi-centre this morning; 'techs who were repeating rumours."

"Go on?" Luke said, wondering why Nath was so tense at telling him this, whatever it was.

"They were talking about Jade- Mara. Rumours are that she keeps a few vials of glitterstim in her quarters… recreational use of course." Hallin said dryly of the popular drug, shaking his head. "I… put two and two together; she's not the type to take glitterstim but there is one drug she might still carry, though I'm sure she assures you otherwise."

Hallin reached into the pocket of his pale gray medical coat fingering the four small vials there, each as about half the size of his little finger, with a narrow neck halfway down their length.

"I took the liberty of going to her quarters this morning, when I knew she was on duty."

Luke rested his elbows on his desk at that, head in his hands; Hallin would probably have blundered through all kinds of subtle trips - espionage was hardly his forte - and worse, Mara was now who-knew-where onboard the Destroyer. If any of them were connected to her comm, she'd already know she'd been broken into so they couldn't even try to repair the…  
Hallin stepped forward and placed four small, familiar vials onto the desk before Luke, breaking his train of thought completely, eyes following them as they rolled forward and came to a stop, chinking lightly against each other.

For a long time he remained silent, staring at the tiny vials, half-filled with a dirty brown liquid… finally he reached out and took one, lifting it to hold it at eye level.

.

This was it, Luke knew.

This was the drug that Palpatine used against him so effectively; the tailor-made drug he had no counter to. The drug which, once in his system, could self-replicate at a rate faster than he could remove it with the Force. This debilitating drug enabled Palpatine to return Luke again and again to the cell beneath the Palace when he chose to discipline and chastise, punish or rebuke. The drug that kept him there, in any state Palpatine chose from subdued and listless to paralysing incapacity or unconsciousness every time he overstepped his mark.

The drug he'd tried so hard for so long to get a sample of.

The drug that Mara had said she no longer carried.

She'd looked him in the eye and promised him that she had none. Which meant she'd lied to him… which meant that she _could_ lie to him.

He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed; he had after all taught her how to do it. He'd always known that in teaching her to be able to lie to Palpatine, he was also teaching her to lie to himself.

Luke glanced up to Hallin, who looked nervously down, then turned his gaze back to the vial, though he was no longer really looking at it.

.

Hallin watched in tense silence as Luke looked back to the vial, shaking his head infinitesimally just once, jaw tight. He seemed to wander for long seconds in consideration…

Then he was back in the moment, turning a delicate vial over in his fingers, studying it.

"Is there any way to get a sample from this without breaking the cap- any way at all?"

Hallin shook his head, "No, not without destroying the vial. They're intended to be broken at the neck to release the contents into a pressure dart for delivery. It's a similar system to a standard hypo. All medical vials are designed to be impervious to any outside agent; completely tamper-proof."

Luke studied the vial as Nathan spoke, aware of his heart pounding, both at the opportunity and the betrayal.

He'd wanted this chance for so long; this had been the shadow hanging over him since he'd first arrived here- it was the one thing that scared him, because with it, _anyone_ could stop him dead. And its distribution was tightly controlled by the Emperor, every vial always accounted for; Luke had no idea where it came from, how much was out there or who had it. He turned the vial over in his hands again, considering… because much as he wanted this, was the cost of gaining it right now, this way, too high?

It was a vulnerability and he didn't like having them, but was he blowing this one weakness out of all proportion? Palpatine meticulously controlled its distribution, this attested to by the fact that Luke had spent so long trying to gain a sample.

Was his unease a reasonable response to a genuine weakness or simply his distaste of Palpatine's use of it?

Had it ever actually _stopped_ him doing anything- or had it simply made the consequences arduous? Which they would have been anyway, one way or another.

He tapped against the delicate vial, turning it over in his fingers and watching the dark liquid coat the inside of the glass… then reached out to press the comlimk set into his desk, looking to Nathan as he did so. "Is Wez up yet?"

Nathan didn't bother to answer, since Luke was already pressing the comm and Wez' voice came back seconds later; "Reece."

"Wez you need to get up here. And find out exactly where Jade is- comm me."

Luke didn't elucidate further but knew he didn't need to; Wez would already be on his way. He glanced back up to Nathan; "This is all the vials you found?"

"Yes. They were in a small metal case. I left the case where it was."

"Describe the case exactly."

"It was just… just a small metal case. There was a protective insert in it to hold the vials-"

"There were no empty slots?"

"Yes- two."

"Is there any way the insert could have been lifted out- that the antidote vials could have been hidden underneath it?"

Hallin's face lit, realising that Luke was looking for the antidote. "No I don't think so- the box was too slim."

"Do you have anything in your medical store which looks exactly like this - anything at all?"

"No- not that colour." _He wants to replace one._

"Do you have facilities to seal a liquid into a vial this way?"

"No- that's a specialist facility. The contents would have been loaded in a sealed, sterile environment."

"Doesn't matter- can you seal a vial so the contents don't condense?"

Hallin squirmed slightly, "No. No I can't."

Luke fell to silence again, considering his options.

"First, we need to get these back into Mara's room- _exactly_ as you found them."

"You're not going to keep one? The antidote…"

"This isn't the antidote, which means that if we keep one to hand over to Karrde's chemist to hopefully _create_ an antidote, then Mara will know that she's lost one and report it to Palpatine. Even if she can't account for where it's gone - and I'm pretty damn sure she'll make it her mission to find out - Palpatine will play this cautiously; it's been too useful for too long for him to even risk my having a sample. Which will mean that he'll have the drug changed slightly; just enough that anything we make to counter it, assuming Karrde's chemist is capable enough to break its chemical code then create an antidote in a reasonable time, will no longer be effective. No matter what we do to hide the fact that we have it, if Mara can't account for all the vials, Palpatine will have the drug changed. If we can't get a sample and return the vial intact, she'll know that someone's been in her quarters and you're now on all the ship's standard security images as entering her apartment. That means I'd need a guarantee that every image was removed before she could take a copy because if she gets just one of them intact, even I can't protect you from Palpatine if it comes out. Finally, all this aside, she'll also know that _I know_ that she can lie to me. Presently, she doesn't and I need to keep it that way. I need to break whatever she's doing - I need to know when she's lying - that's as important as the drug."

"But the sample…" Hallin argued, knowing how Luke hated the drug.

He shook his head decisively, "We know she has it now. We can always go back and get the drug Nathan - when we're better prepared; when we can disguise the loss, replace it with a duplicate - replace them all, even. This is bigger than my discomfort at being…"

Luke was interrupted by a knock at the door as Reece entered, eyes flashing around and coming to rest on the vial in Luke's hand, his recognition immediate. "Jade is in Navigation, checking the logs to be sure the system scrub is in effect, Commander. Apparently you sent her there."

"Did you speak to her?"

"No Sir; but I know the second array 'tech there; I contacted him directly and asked him what she was doing."

Luke handed the vial over to Reece, "Damage control; these need to go back to her room, and I need any trace that Nathan was in there removed. On the security logs too."

Reece only nodded, knowing better than to ask questions right now, understanding instantly the tight schedule they were on.

Hallin reached out to gather up the other vials - they would have to remove his fingerprints anyway - and glanced to Reece as he turned to the door; "One second- just one second please?"

Glancing back to Luke, who nodded slightly, Wez turned and left.

"Whatever it is it can wait, Nathan."

"This is important."

Luke sighed and collapsed back slightly, knowing already what Nath would say.

Hallin stepped forward, keeping his voice quiet. "I wonder whether… in view of the fact that Mara is still carrying these vials and so must be prepared to use them if instructed to do so by the Emperor…"

"Get to the point." Luke cut in tersely.

"Whether…" Hallin was as dogged and un-derailable as ever, "It's perhaps time to… re-evaluate you relationship with Commander Jade."

Luke didn't speak, didn't meet Nathan's eyes, his temper slowly rising as the realization of Mara's actions hit home. Unknowing, Nathan pushed onward, voice calm but purposeful.

"She told you she no longer carried them and you believed her. Without looking for further proof, you believed her. I wonder if… perhaps this particular game has gone far enough. I think you'll find…"

Luke rose, hands banging against he desk as he did so. It wasn't Hallin's words - they were nothing he hadn't said before. Still, the warring emotions that snapped at Luke's heels from Mara's latest betrayal were surprising in their intensity– and Hallin was pushing too far in the wrong moment.

"_Don't_ lecture me- don't stand behind the safe obscurity of your anonymous little life and lecture me on rational decisions Hallin. When you've stood here- when you've lived this existence, always on the offensive, always under attack, you can…" He broke off in the face of Nathan's passive acceptance, the explosion over almost a quickly as it had begun, Luke's face falling to rueful regret.

Nathan sighed without animosity, knowing the knife-edge his friend had walked on for so long.

"Forgive me," Nathan said with feeling, looking down, "But… you are risking everything for something which at the end of the day, is quite impossible. And every single day that you continue, you place yourself at greater risk. You know that yourself - you've told me so. She will _never_ be what you want her to be, she will never be trustworthy. As long as the Emperor is alive, she'll put her loyalty to him first… and as long as she's willing to do that, she's a risk. To your plans, to your allies… and to you." Hallin opened his hand, the vials chinking apart, "_This_ is the reality- _this_ is the truth; the limits of her fidelity. I'm sorry but…"

Hallin trailed to silence, tone and sense genuinely apologetic, and his words, gently spoken, held the power to cut through all of Luke's denials, cold reality knocking the air from his lungs in a rush. Abruptly Luke comprehended what he was doing- what he was asking those around him to do. He was gambling _everything_, not just is own neck, but those who already risked so much to support him- for what?

Because he didn't know anymore; he didn't _know_ where the lies stopped. His stormy relationship with Mara had always been little more than a brittle truce, an uneasy compromise whose borders were marked by his knowledge of her loyalties. Now it wasn't even that- now it was at best a wilful denial; at worst a dangerous lie, manipulation in its coldest form.

If she held these vials… if?.. _if!_

She _had_ the vials; she _had_ lied- what was there left to trust? The real deception here was the one he had willingly created for himself, and if it had been only him at risk then perhaps he would have still closed his eyes…

"You should end this." Hallin stated quietly, and Luke knew that unlike his father, Nathan spoke only out of concern, "It's become too dangerous-a game."

"I know."

Hallin nodded once in silence, then turned and left.

.

Alone, Luke stood absolutely still for a long time, trying not to think… _knowing_ the truth;

She would betray him.

The vials were nothing- nothing at all. Whatever she was going to do, it hadn't happened yet. It hung, hulking, like a dense dark knot, like a black hole in the Force, impenetrable, unstoppable, dragging everything in about it. Nothing escaped its influence; nothing. Not him, not her, no-one. Its consequences radiated outwards changing everything...

How, he didn't yet know; past that single point, everything was darkness. There was nothing. Oblivion… would that be so bad?

Because he felt helpless to stop himself; despite everything he still wanted to trust her- wanted her close.

Again his father's words, spoken so long ago, whispered in the face of this one, crushing truth. _'You cannot be close to another- you cannot allow another to be close to you. Failure is inevitable and the consequences will spiral from your control.' _

"I am not you." Luke whispered, less sure by the day.

.

.

.

When Mara knocked quietly and entered Luke's quarters onboard the Patriot that night, it was to find him still dressed despite the late hour, sat at the circular table beneath the row of wide viewports, a pack of chipcards in his hand.

"Still up?" she asked, slipping in and closing the door.

"Waiting for you." he said simply without smiling, tapping the cards restlessly against the table.

Mara glanced at them then back to Luke, curious at his temperament, though it was nothing she could put her finger on. "Well that's handy, 'cos here I am."

She bent over, running her fingers through his long hair to push it back as she leant in to kiss him on the forehead before flopping down on the chair opposite. "So I guess we can go to bed now."

"I'm not tired yet. Play sabacc with me."

"I'm way too tired to play sabacc- especially with you." Mara said easily, "Come to bed. If you're not tired we'll think of something."

Luke glanced up, mismatched eyes momentarily amused… but he didn't give. "A few games. We never play anymore."

Mara slouched forward to lean her chin on the table, grinning. "Yes we do- just not sabacc."

But Luke was already dealing the cards, his manner brittly good-humoured. "What, afraid I'll beat you? Here- I'll give you a tell for free; one of my cards is the six of staves. How can I possibly make a winning hand with that?"

Her head still leant against the table, Mara sighed and lifted her cards as Luke reached out and hit the small pulse generator, sliding it out into the middle of the table.

"You'd better not win, Skywalker." she growled unenthusiastically.

Which he did- ten games straight. But then it was hardly surprising, Luke knew; he was using the Force.

Mara was sat up straight by now, infuriated at his winning streak- and Luke knew it.

By five games in she was shielding her thoughts, but by then she'd already provided the baseline for comparisons within the Force so he just kept on winning, pushing her to ever more suspicion and shields. For ten games straight he either kept bidding until he knew he held the winning hand or bluffed so high as to make her back down the moment he thought she'd lost her hand. Always watching, always reading her.

Every time the field changed the face value of the cards, every time a card was drawn, every bet she made, every fold, every raise. Closely attuned; pinning down thought patterns and hidden intent, slowly sensing faint variations, the slightest disparity. Chasing down increments, cracks in her armour, chinks in her shields. Hundreds of decisions made in quick succession, always hidden but easy to compare, the results borne out when the chipcards were turned.

He'd taught her the system to use against Palpatine; how to use the Force to shield secrets - a way to screen her thoughts then hide the screens - it was _his_ system… and if he created it, he could break it. But subtly; try after try, test after test, setting bars and standards and offsetting each change in the flow against existing knowledge, every discreet flaw noted, every doubt, every bluff, every momentary triumph exploited, modifying his technique, tailoring his reading.

He had her at seven games; after that it was academic.

She scowled at him across the table, green eyes ablaze. "Are you using the Force?"

He sat back slightly in his seat, "I would never lie to you, Red."

Mara narrowed her eyes at his avoidance. "You lie all the time."

"I bluff," Luke corrected, "There's a difference."

"I'm not talking about sabacc."

"Neither am I." He said coolly, taking the opportunity to draw the conversation where he wished it, a test of new knowledge. "Ask me anything."

Mara leaned back, still frustrated enough to be drawn in. "_Why_ are we playing sabacc at two in the morning?"

"Because I haven't played this game in a long time," he said, "Not with you."

Before she could speak again he straightened, "My turn- was it you who repositioned the surveillance lenses in the corridor so you could get in and out of here easier?"

Nothing too contentious to begin with; something he already knew, but she didn't know that.

Now it was Mara's turn to straighten, freshly wary at this bizarre question-and-answer session. "I didn't agree this was a two-way offer."

"Your question next." Luke said, knowing she wouldn't be able to refuse the lure.

She hesitated- but only for a second… "Yes I did. Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want the truth."

"That's not an answer, it's an avoidance."

"Because I want the truth- and I think the best way to gain it is to offer it in return." Again Luke pushed on before she could ask more."My turn; do you still carry a firearm when you come here at night?"

"I always carry a firearm, you know that."

"Yes I do- so why do you conceal it? What else do you conceal Mara?"

"That's two questions." She said, and Luke shrugged slightly, conceding; it didn't matter whether she answered out loud- she'd already responded in her thoughts.

Mara considered long seconds, realising now that this conversation was going somewhere specific, noting the abrupt edge in his tone and his stance. "What do you want- with this?"

Those sharp, mismatched eyes hardened just slightly.

"I want to know whether you lie to me." He paused just long enough to clarify that he was posing his question; "Do you lie to me Mara?"

Mara tensed slightly "Do you lie to me?"

The slightest smile brushed his scarred lips, "You've already asked that."

"You didn't answer."

"Why do you lie to me Mara?"

Mara shook her head, straightening, aware that the banter was taking a dangerous turn, "Why do you lie to me?"

He sat back slightly, seeming to consider for a moment. "Because you give me no option. If you could honestly say that you wouldn't repeat everything I say or do to Palpatine, then I wouldn't lie. If you would give your word that anything you see or hear in the time we spend together exists outside of your mandate then I wouldn't need to second-guess every moment with you. But you won't do that. So I lie to protect myself in the one situation that I really shouldn't have to, with the one person I really don't want to."

He paused, then repeated his question, "Why do you lie to me?"

Mara held to stunned silence for long seconds, taken aback by that burst of cutting truth, a whole minefield they had very pointedly never even tried to address before.

Luke's voice was sharper this time, the demand unmistakable; "Why do you lie to me Mara?"

"Sometimes… I have to."

He watched her struggle for long seconds before she said that, watched her realisation dawn as to where this was going.

And much as Luke wanted to stay angry, he couldn't; not before that, not with all the history that lay behind them. He had what he needed from this- he knew how to break her shields. Everything else was just to satiate his own frustrations and disappointment; he could probably validate it to himself as maintaining the conversation to hide his intent, or justifying to himself that what he was about to do was the right choice- but in truth it was procrastination, to make this easier. For him if not for her.

He sighed, glancing away, leaning back into the chair. There was, he knew, just one more thing he needed to lay to rest - and he should do it now, quickly, whilst he still had the anger to push it through.

"This is… this will never work, Mara. We were stupid to think it would. We should back out gracefully whilst it's still… at least reasonably straightforward." Mara shook her head but he continued, holding his nerve. "It will get too complicated, Mara. I'm amazed it hasn't already."

"Why? What would change?"

"What are you gonna do the next time Palpatine orders you to move against me- to make it possible to get me down to the detention centre again? Because he will, eventually."

"Only if you make him."

"He _will_ do it Mara. He'll give that order eventually- and I think you'll carry it out." Luke was silent for a while, giving her time to consider that – to deny it. But she remained silent and he let out a resigned sigh, "… And where does that leave us right now- where does it leave me?"

"It leaves us where we are- nothing has changed."

"You want to know where we are? I don't trust you Mara- I _can't_ trust you. What am I supposed to do?"

"What… what is… what's brought this on?"

Luke raised his eyebrows, incredulous. "It doesn't matter! It doesn't make any of it untrue."

Luke stood and backed up step, putting some distance between them, "Why you, Mara. Did you ever wonder… why you to be here every day, always near? Why you at the beginning, when I was completely alone? You're an assassin- a deep-cover operative, not a bodyguard."

"Because I know how to deal with a Jedi." she said, as if it were obvious.

Luke shook his head, refusing the validation. "What about Vader?"

"Palpatine didn't trust Vader, you know that."

"He doesn't trust you."

"Of course he trusts me- he always has."

"Then why do you have a watcher, Mara?"

She only skipped by the question, shaking her head. "Vader would have worked to his own ends if he'd been there- Palpatine knew that."

"And what are you doing, in being here- like this?"

"He doesn't know that. You said he didn't know we were together- in the Palace, you said he didn't know."

"I was wrong. He knew- I think he's always known. He _engineered_ this, Mara."

She stood, taking a step forward but halting as he backed up, "Luke, he doesn't know."

"He knows. Maybe, just maybe we could have gotten away with it when we were well away from Coruscant – maybe even for one night in the Palace – but when he was on the Patriot?! When Nath was there, panicking and fretting?"

Mara was already shaking her head, a hundred carefully-created excuses lined up. Luke lifted on hand, chopping her words off with a gesture. "He turns a blind eye because it gains him so much."

"What would he possibly have to gain from you and I being together?"

"Everything. Everything he wants… needs."

Mara shook her head, unconvinced, unwilling to let the avoidance pass now that so much was at stake. " 'Everything' isn't an answer, Skywalker- it's an evasion."

"You want specifics? Fine. He needs a way to control me and he knows he can do that through you because you'll always remain loyal to him at the end of the day, Mara. You'll never disobey a direct order, not from him- so he always has someone close who he can turn on me. Because no matter how much anyone tries to remain vigilant, familiarity lowers defences."

He didn't stoop so low as to mention the other reason in his mind; that her closeness bought her information which she'd never otherwise have had access to, but they both knew he was thinking it, not least because it was true, much as he tried to maintain those defences.

Still, Luke skipped past it, citing other reasons. "He uses you as a direct method of control, Mara- he's _used_ you against me already."

"What does that even mean- used me against you how?"

"As a threat, Mara." Luke said quietly, " 'Do this… or _they_ will pay the consequences'."

Mara shook her head, unwilling to believe Palpatine would use her in that way. "Did he say my name?"

"He didn't need to."

Mara shook her head again. "He doesn't know."

Luke held his ground, unyielding. "He _allows_ this- he turns a blind eye because he knows he has everything to win and nothing to lose."

"What? Like what?"

Luke sighed, reluctant to hurt her but knowing this needed to be spoken out loud. "A child, Mara. A force-sensitive child, to continue his precious dynasty."

Mara felt her jaw drop, realisation striking with an almost physical blow, making her feel sick. For a long time she remained silent, the implications of this slowly sinking in. A child- he would take it from them- from her. Hide it away and keep it; twist its mind and…

She shook her head, stepping back, needing space. Skywalker waited as she paced the room, dragging her fingers through her hair.

Would he do this? Was all of this planned? She knew her master wanted to instigate a Sith dynasty; he didn't _need_ two Force-sensitives to do that, but she knew him well, knew how his mind worked; that he would want the extraordinary, the unique… wouldn't it be just like him to…

"It wouldn't _be_ his dynasty." She said aloud, turning to Luke. "It would be Vader's."

Luke looked away at that, some uneasy disquiet shading his face. "He wants a Sith Dynasty, Mara- he wants his precious Sith Dynasty and this is how he'd gain what he wants. That's all that matters to him; it's what this is all about- you know that. This is what he does- games within games, everything twisted to what he wants. There are no coincidences- not here; you _know_ that. Everything is to his design. And when he realises you're not gonna gain him what he wants, he'll wait for the very next time I push a little too far so he can blame it on me- then you'll be gone. You'll be gone because he knows that can hurt me." Luke shook his head, "I'm not doing this- I can't. I can't give him that kind of control- you know that."

"He only has control if you let him." Mara said, "Nothing's changed since the first night we were together- not really."

"No it hasn't." Luke said without flinching, "I _don't trust_ _you_ Mara. You're lying to me, about more than one thing."

Mara raised her chin momentarily but the anger didn't come; it was pointless and they both knew it. "I'm not lying to you about anything that matters."

"It matters to me."

"It's just Palpa…"

"I know exactly what it is Mara. What I don't understand is why you think that's okay. How you would think I would find the fact that you work for my enemy acceptable- how the hell you think this is a tolerable situation."

"He's not your enemy Luke."

"No? The man who maintains a detention cell specifically to hold me isn't my enemy? The man who equips those around me with a drug designed specifically to control me? He takes me to pieces down there, Mara, in case you hadn't noticed. In all the times I've been down there, I've never once walked out of that cell- because I've never once been capable. How can I think of the man who does that as anything but my enemy?"  
He bit back on what he so wanted to say; _and_ _you're still carrying the drug that would get me back down into that cell… you!_

Mara held her ground, "Those days are over now and you know it."

"How!? How do I know it?"

"He told me."

Luke almost laughed out loud.

"You can't _trust_ him Mara! You can't trust anything he says." His voice was raising now, laced with frustrated disbelief.

"_I_ can trust him." she maintained firmly, "He doesn't lie to me."

"Then why…" Luke broke off, dragging his hands through his hair. He was silent for a long time, looking down as he shook his head, and when he spoke again his voice had a forced calm; "Why do you call him master?"

"What?" She backstepped, avoiding the answer, playing for time. But he wouldn't let her, that calm expression overlaying whatever he was truly thinking.

"He has you call him master but he won't teach you- except what benefits him."

Mara glanced away, unwilling to answer, but he remained silent so finally she spoke. "He's taught me all he can." She insisted, very sure. "He can't teach me what I don't have the ability to learn." He'd told her many times; she had some connection with the Force, some affinity which made her able to hear his voice and respond in kind, but that was the limit of her sensitivity. She simply didn't have the connection to be capable of more. He'd _told_ her that.

"I taught you more- was that so difficult to learn? He's not teaching you- he's holding you back… and deep down I think you know it." He stepped forward. "Mara, it's not that he can't teach you more... it's that he _won't_. Right now you're easy to control and you'll never become a threat- why should he risk that by continuing to teach you?"

"Well then why has he taught you?"

"Because I…" Luke broke off, clearly almost slipping in the heat of the moment.

"You what?"

"Because I already knew too much. Because he sees power and he wants to control it. Because he believes... _claims_ he has a vested interest."

Mara shook her head in confusion, knowing that he was holding out on her; that he had deeper reasons that he seemed unwilling to share.

Luke sighed, uneasy. "Because he's convinced I'm different… my father's different. This _line_ is different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

She studied him, trying to pull answers from the facts and he looked away, shaking his head, clamping his jaw.

"At least give me that." she pushed, "You want me to walk away… well then I think I deserve that."

Luke held silent for long moments, reluctant, but she remained still, waiting…

"I only know fragments," he said at last without alluding as to where from or how, "That there was a… prophesy. Made a long time ago by the Jedi…" He shook his head, seeming embarrassed now, "Something… I don't know. This line is mixed up in it; twisted through with it- that's what he claims."

"What's the prophesy?"

Luke shook his head again, unwilling to be pulled in any further. "Look at us; this line… we're bad blood, Mara. Bad blood."

There was something in his tone, angry and bewildered and desperate and completely convinced, and she knew he was trying to push her away but it only drew her in further. She moved forward, reached out to brush his hair from his eyes, but he stepped back, lifting his hand against her, refusing the intimacy.

"Don't." he shook his head. "We can't be together Mara. I _can't_ trust you and you absolutely cannot trust me. We were playing a game, that's all. It was just a game that got out of hand…"

She reached forward and took hold of him, though he tensed against the embrace, hands to her shoulders to push her away.

"It doesn't matter Luke. None of that matters, don't you see? I don't care. I don't care about prophesies and Sith and Emperors and Heirs- I don't _care_. I care about you. I want to be with you… and I'm pretty damn sure that you want to be with me. So nothing else matters- does it?"

He remained silent, hands still to her shoulders, though he'd stopped trying to push her away. She held still against him, arms wrapped tight, feeling the beat of his heart, the rise of his chest- and nothing else mattered.

"Say _no _and kiss me." she whispered, stretching up to him…

And he leaned in to her, fingers trailing across her outstretched neck- and kissed her.

But he didn't say 'no'…

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Mara glanced up at the light knock on the door to her room, eyes narrowing with suspicion. She'd returned only a short while ago, having stayed overnight with Luke, and had come back only to change before she'd make her public return to Luke's quarters to begin her formal day's work as his bodyguard.

She walked slowly to the door and pressed the release. Nathan Hallin stood quietly in the corridor, glancing up as the door slid aside.

"Commander Jade."

The fact that he was here at all was suspicious enough; the fact that he'd arrived here just minutes after she had was an obvious statement. He'd come with something to say Mara knew, so it seemed petty to make him say it here in the hallway.

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter, gathering her thoughts and forcing herself to concentrate on the situation at hand. Despite his apparently easygoing manner, she'd come to know that Hallin was astute and perceptive- a handful at the best of times.

He walked into her quarters but went no further, politely waiting. Mara palmed the door closed then walked past him into the room and he followed in silence, in no hurry to speak.

"If you have something to say then say it, Hallin."

He studied her for a long time in silence before finally offering in a casual, clipped voice, "The Heir is unaware that I'm here."

"Are you asking me not to tell him you came?"

"I'm making you aware of the facts Commander; what you do with them is your choice." He looked her up and down quickly, "And choices are such… interesting things. Revealing."

Mara narrowed her eyes, wary. Hallin always spoke his mind and had never disguised his mistrust of Mara, but this was something new. This wasn't a casual snipe in an empty corridor- he'd actually sought her out to say his piece. Of course, she should have realised; Luke's doubts yesterday had to have come from somewhere, and Hallin was the obvious choice, but this- to come to her quarters, to speak as he had done, the lines drawn already- this was unexpectedly direct, even for Hallin.

But if there was one thing Mara could do, it was _direct_; "I find if I'm curious about something, the best approach is to simply ask."

Hallin only nodded slowly. "An interesting approach for someone who tells lies for a living."

Mara arched her eyebrows at that, stepping subtly closer, wondering if the slight medic realised she could break his neck long before he'd even begun to react to the move. Whether he knew that the only thing which stopped her was Luke.

"If all you're here to do is speak in riddles Hallin, then you should go, because you're wasting both our times."

"Go? Where would I go?" Hallin purposely misunderstood her words, "This is my home Commander. My obligations and loyalties lie here."

"And you're saying mine don't?"

"Do they?"

It was a surprising question in that it was just that- a question.

"My interests lie here, Hallin." Mara assured acerbically.

"Interests are such momentary things- they wane. And when they do, someone must pick up the pieces."

Mara sighed, frustrated all over again at this ongoing grudge-match. "You know him so well, Hallin- I can't believe you think him so blind."

"In some things we are all blind, Commander. Then we must rely on those around us to protect us."

"I would never hurt him."

"As you said before. Yet you're still here… and we both know why."

"Why don't you tell me?"

"You don't need me to tell you where your loyalties lie, I'm sure."

"I've never made any secret of my loyalties." Mara said, Luke's argument the previous night ringing in her ears.

"Nor I, Commander." Hallin replied, "And they are, I assure you, easily as passionate as your own."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Hallin shook his head, studying her, tone polite and genuinely curious. "I cannot understand how you have been so close to him for so long, yet you seem to have no concept- none at all- of who he really is. You _cannot_ understand how close to the edge he operates every single day. How much pressure he exists under-"

"You think I don't see the cracks Hallin, but I do."

"Then I can only assume that you test them on purpose- or ignore them for your own self-serving indulgence."

Mara's chin rose, "You have no idea how close to the line you are right now."

"And you have no idea of how much it's costing Luke to survive here, I think. No idea of how much it takes to rise above Palpatine's grasping control, his constant manipulations. Luke would do anything- _anything_ to be free of him." Hallin's soft, serious brown eyes came to Mara, expression grave, "So much so that if he tears himself apart in the process, then that is the price he will pay."

"He won't do that." Mara said, unnerved by Hallin's sinister prediction.

"He doesn't need to." Hallin said without animosity, "You're doing it for him."

She shook her head in denial but the medic pushed on. "You do so every day, Commander, simply by remaining close to him- and you know it."

"I think he can take care of himself, Hallin."

"I'm sure he can. But that does not lessen the dedication of those around him- and I am, I assure you, not alone in my commitment to protect The Heir."

"What does that mean?"

He was very calm now, coolly assertive and self-possessed, "Do you think we don't watch you- do you think you operate with impunity?"

The first inkling of nerves rose in Mara at the declaration within those words. "Who's '_we'_?"

"We will not allow you to harm him." Hallin said quietly, but with absolute commitment. "You think you're here by the Emperor's sanction and that's true. But whether you choose to believe it or not, you are also here by ours. And the first time you cross the line - the moment we see him falter because of your actions…"

He met her eyes and his tone was absolute, "We will remove you. Permanently. I will inform Luke myself… and I will deal with and answer for the consequences of my actions, secure in the knowledge that whatever happens, I have done the right thing."

Mara was both fascinated and moved by this unconditional commitment, this protective loyalty. The fact that it was being used to threaten her was in this moment unimportant. What mattered was that it was there- that Luke was safeguarded by this intense allegiance. That he inspired it.

Still, the confidence in Hallin's words spoke volumes, as did the fact that he would stand before her and admit this. His veiled declaration that there were others loyal to Luke, his assertion that they could now deal with any threat, secure in the knowledge that he remained untouchable, his position as Luke's close ally giving Hallin equal standing to Mara's as the Emperor's Hand.

Again Luke's words of the previous night came to mind; _"It will get very complicated, Mara..." _

At the time they'd seemed nothing; a passing comment - now, in light of Hallin's attitude…

Everything was changing as Luke gained ground and stature, Mara knew. Right now his support was still subtle and secretive, but it was clearly gaining confidence every day- and it wouldn't do that without reason.  
For the first time it occurred to her to wonder what would happen when Luke eventually took power- whether those whom Hallin claimed believed as he did would be able to subtly exclude and undermine her.

"I won't hurt him, Hallin- that isn't my intent."

Hallin remained silent, expression set in stone. Did she care for him? Was she struggling between split loyalties or playing a role for Hallin's benefit? If she truly wanted to play that role, then surely she would have declared total loyalty to Luke and disavowed the Emperor… yet she remained caught between the two.

_Could she_ be trusted?

"You're asking too much of him." Hallin said at last, searching her eyes.

"I ask nothing of him."

Didn't she understand - couldn't she see why the fact that her loyalties were not Luke's was so significant? That trying to find a path between her companionship and his own intentions was tearing Luke apart. He had few vulnerabilities before Palpatine- his greatest the Emperor didn't know- but he didn't need it; Mara was enough.

"What you ask of him- it destroyed his father, and he knows it. I won't let it destroy him."

"Neither will I." Mara realised in that moment just how much she meant it. How little everything else mattered by comparison.

Hallin nodded slowly. The warning was still in his eyes, though it hid something else, for Luke's sake; a willingness to withhold judgement… for now.

"I'll hold you to that."

Mara set her head to one side, throwing the words Hallin had murmured to her in the medi-center so long ago back in his face, "I'm not doing it for you."


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

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The Patriot was stocking up for its fifth trip to who-knew-where by the time Han finally made it onboard. He had a sneaky suspicion that there were three of them altogether who'd been given fake ID's and buried in the Duty Roster, but he wasn't sure- for obvious reasons, none of those sent knew about anyone else.

The fates had been with them though; there was a rash of inter-fleet personnel transfers every time the Patriot reappeared in the Core Systems, which had made it that much easier to get onboard with the crew rotations- and that much more worrying as to what was going on to cause them.

That was the great thing about Super Star Destroyers though, Han reflected as the crew shuttle set down in the Patriot's sprawling main hold; they were massive ships, extensively manned, and if you were going to smuggle a few short-term spies into the Fleet then this was where you did it. Which was just as well, because no-one seemed to have a clue as to where the Patriot disappeared to for three weeks in every four as she had done since her launch, and everyone was getting real jittery.

It had taken the best part of a week to persuade Massa to let him use one of the fake ID's, then almost the same to get Leia to okay it- sometimes having your other half be the leader of the Rebellion could seriously cramp your operating style. In the end, his questionable credentials as an ex-Imperial Officer - all be it dishonourably discharged - had given him the edge in that he knew operating procedures onboard a Destroyer.

That was what he'd claimed anyway- it was a long time ago and he'd not really paid much attention at the time.

But surprisingly it was all coming back to him with unnerving clarity now he was here, making the nine-day wait at the Shipyards in the Farlax Sector and the trip up to the Patriot a breeze. Now all he had to do was stay undercover long enough to see Luke; watch him operate here, watch him interact. That wasn't his mission of course - his remit was to lay a series of in-system bugs for information-gathering, but he figured anyone could do that. Han was the only one who could read the kid with any real sense of familiarity and prior knowledge to base his judgement on - and any genuinely impartial bias, as far as he was concerned.

And since the launch of the Patriot - hell, since the kid had let him go with the Falcon - he'd been desperate to know just what was going on in Luke's head. What was in his mind when he'd foiled an attempt on Palpatine's life then just turned straight around and saved Leia's?

He told himself that this was for the Alliance - that it was vital information, whether they knew it or not - but some niggling little voice kept on asking if the truth was that he just wanted to see Luke; wanted to look him in the eye and… what?

He had no idea. Maybe he just wanted to look the kid in the eye - maybe that was all he needed.

Or maybe that was the last thing he needed; admittedly their last meeting hadn't exactly been genial. It had raised more questions than it answered, none of them good, but Han was more optimistic this time. Clearly the trick was not to get caught on the back foot with Luke; make sure you're the one in control. To do that it would be smart to keep out of his way, keep your distance, keep hidden- just watch and learn, wait as long as it takes for the right chance to come along.

Yeah, that made sense.

Nodding to himself as he stepped off the ramp of the crew shuttle into the cavernous, echoing bluster of the Patriot's busy main hangar, troops and supplies being delivered and stored in equally impressive measure, Han glanced about, feeling stiff and starched in his fitted Petty Officer's uniform.

Stretching his neck as he ran his finger under the edge of his high collar, he nodded reassuringly to himself; this was easy. All he had to do now was get through inauguration and he was laughing…

They all stood in a straight line in the crew hangar close to the Officer's quarters. Han had been assigned a room - even had a window - given his clearance codes without problems and was now listening- kinda- to a Personnel Officer drone on about protocols and mealtimes and shift hours. Basically all the things that Han had been drummed out of the Fleet for ignoring first time around. That and the whole Chewie thing…

Han raised his eyebrows and effected a slight shrug; oh well- their loss, not his. He glanced back to the Officer, realising that he hadn't listened to a word so far-

"…several rules above and beyond the norm, associated with the fact that The Heir is generally onboard."

Han pricked his ears up at this, finally interested, as the Officer droned on.

"Although it's unlikely that any of you will meet him in your day to day duties, there are certain protocols established in case you do. You will stick to them as if your life depends on it, because if I find out that an officer under my command had breached them, then I will personally strip his ass back down to Private- are we all clear?"

_Nice man- good social skills._ Han reflected dryly, remembering afresh why he hated the military.

"These are the rules; take notes." The burly man walked slowly down the length of the line, "Firstly, you will refer to him when speaking to others in the third party. The Commander's own non-military Aides who are on-board will refer to him by his civilian title, which is 'The Heir'. _You_ will not. Onboard ship, or whenever you are wearing a Fleet uniform, you will refer to him by his military title, which is Commander-in Chief; in the unlikely event that you find yourself in his presence, you will remember that he prefers simply 'Commander'. When you have referred to him once as such, you will then subsequently acknowledge him as Sir. You will do this every time you meet him; Commander then Sir. You will _not_ try to engage him in smalltalk; he does _not_ appreciate it. You will not go closer than four paces unless he looks to you and nods his head in permission. Even if you have to give him something you will stand and wait until he nods his head to allow you closer. If he enters a room in which you are present, you will bow smartly from the neck and bring your heels together military-style. You will practice this so that it is not sloppy when you finally have to do it. If you are in a room and the Commander is there, _you may not leave_ without his order or his dismissal. If you need to walk away from him, you will bow and back up four paces, then and bring your heels together before you turn away. If I see anyone turn their back on him _within_ four paces I will have you doing nightshifts on a garbage hauler for the rest of your career. You will _not_ stand behind him closer that those magic four paces- if he turns his back on you, you will back up, as before. You will _not_ sit in his presence unless _explicitly_ invited to do so, which I very much doubt. You will not _eat_ in his presence unless invited. _You will not stare_. You will not make conversation with civilian members of his entourage; you will remember that aside from Fleet issues, they outrank you and you will refer to them by their rank or title. You will _learn_ their ranks and titles. You will _not_ ask for an introduction to the Commander- it will _not_ further you career; they have invested many years in getting to where they are now and believe me, they'll be damned if they'll help any of you replace them."

Han was starting to tune out at this point, partly as a reflex action, but partly because it was beginning to occur to him for the first time just who he was trying to get close to. Up until now, he'd just been trying to get to Luke; suddenly, in his world for the very first time, he was realising just how much had changed; he was no longer trying to steal a few minutes with that hyper kid from Tatooine, who happened to be onboard a Star Destroyer- he was trying to get to the Heir to the Imperial Throne. Someone who lived that life- _this life_- all bows and Sir's and entourages. Nobody stare, don't get too close; don't even _think_ about trying to start a conversation…

It finally hit him that Luke Skywalker might not even exist anymore- not the Luke Skywalker Han knew. Five years… that was a hell of a long time to live this life, surrounded by people like this, who just kept on shoehorning you into it 'cos it was _protocol_, completely removed from everything normal and conventional.

It was also beginning to dawn that the kid wasn't a kid anymore; he was the Commander in Chief of the Core Fleet and next in line to rule an Empire, inaccessible and isolated.

Was it by choice or by influence?

The Personnel Officer paused to answer his comm and Han realised that once again he hadn't heard a word he'd been saying; probably wasn't important…

Signing off, the man glanced up again, glowering at the row of new Officers, "... so look upon this as your one opportunity to shine - in front of me, not the Commander. I guarantee you that he doesn't even know you exist. As far as I'm concerned, what you do from now on reflects on me, and so decides what you do here for the next twelve months, which decides the rest of your career. Don't screw up."

Han raised his eyebrows without speaking; maybe it had been important…

Seconds later, the bay's pressure door slid open and a Petty Officer sounded a triple-tone on his whistle.

"Commander on deck!" The mouthy Officer shouted with military precision as he came to smart attention, everyone straightening, heels clicking in unison-

And Luke walked in, hands behind his back, a neutral, unreadable expression on his scarred face.

He was impeccably dressed in a smart, _almost_ military uniform in dark blue-gray, a small group of senior Officers and Aides trailing behind him- none any closer than the regulation four paces, Han noticed wryly.

He looked… different to Han- older. Which was stupid 'cos he _was_ older, but… somehow Han had never quite reconciled the shadow-shrouded man in the Fury's detention level with - well, with Luke; with the kid. He'd just, over time, mentally replaced that image from the Fury with the one of Luke that he already knew; the _real_ Luke. And the holo's which came in all the time from Intel well, they weren't really Luke either- not really. They were some other guy; The Heir, the enemy; whatever. Not Luke.

And now here he was again, that strange shadow-Luke. But in the plain light of day.

He seemed taller, broader; all grown up. His hair was long and unruly though, falling to loose twists almost on his shoulders- and dark, making his skin seem paler… making that scar seem deeper.

From well above his eye it sliced down his cheek, through both lips and onto his chin- that was one hell of a scar. Why did he still have it?

But then, who was Han to talk- he still had a scar on his chin from long ago. Had purposely kept it as a memory; a reminder of a lesson hard learned. Han looked afresh at the heavy scar… wondered what other scars the kid held.

Luke motioned with gloved hand for the group around him to stop and wandered slowly along the line, indifferently inspecting the new drafts…

Han's mind was racing as Luke drew ever closer; well this was a bolt from the blue- who'd have thought The Heir to the Empire routinely wandered below decks to check the new Petty Officers? He vaguely remembered confidently figuring that all he had to do was make sure he didn't get caught on the back foot again by Luke and everything would be fine - apparently _that_ plan was already out the airlock.

If he was a smarter man, he'd probably be sweating by now.

Luke walked at a leisurely pace down the row of newcomers, already aware that Han was at the far end of the line-up but taking his time. He'd developed a habit of coming down here each time a new batch were brought onboard, knowing that eventually Han would be among them. Argot had warned weeks ago him that Solo may soon be onboard, one of five spies, four of which were already tagged. This fifth Luke would look out for himself; private business.  
So he'd taken to the habit of coming down here on the pretext of a personal inspection every now and again so that when he finally needed to, it wouldn't seem out of place.

He slowed to a stop before Han, who looked slightly green, Luke eyeing him up and down in silence, though Han kept his eyes dead ahead.

"And you are?" Luke prompted finally.

"Lieutenant Solin, Sir." Han saluted smartly then hesitated; was he supposed to bow? Was that supposed to come before the salute? The Officer coughed sharply and Han belatedly realised he'd also used the wrong title, "Commander!" he corrected quickly.

Luke continued to stare as if he hadn't noticed, narrowing his eyes in contemplation, hesitating for an uncomfortably long time before finally speaking. "Don't I know you?"

"No, Sir, I don't believe we've met."

"Oh, I'm sure we have." Luke corrected quickly, "Very sure."

Again Luke left a long silence as he stared at Han, who shifted uncomfortably, partly at the rocky situation and partly in trepidation, which wasn't Solo's style, Luke reflected. Maybe he was realising that the changes in his old friend were something more than skin deep. Luke narrowed his eyes, letting the moment hang…letting Solo sweat a little for being as reckless and as rash as to think he could get away with this…

Then he cut him a break. "It was… at the opening of a gallery on Coruscant. We spoke about a piece of art… _'Night Battle'_ by Inego, I think it was."

Han let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding. "Yes Sir, I think you're right. I still have… a copy."

"Really? I thought you'd have sold it by now."

"No, Sir. It has sentimental value."

"I think you overestimate it." Luke said with dismissive finality. "I find I've lost my taste for Inego's work as time has passed. He was always so naïve- trying to paint pictures which didn't exist in reality anymore."

"See, that's what I like about the picture- every time I see it, it's like visiting an old friend."

Luke smiled at that; Solo hadn't lost his sharp mind- though it was wasted if he thought he could change anything here… or return to the past. "Perhaps it's time to move on. I have."

"Thank you Sir but I think I'll keep it... the uh, the artist may not be in favour where I come from, but that doesn't change my own view of him."

"Perhaps popular opinion is right."

"They don't know him like I do." Han said firmly. "Everybody's passing judgement on someone they never met."

"Did. Inego is dead, Petty Officer Solin."

"Maybe…" Han began- But Luke cut him off, voice decisive.

"Oh trust me; he's gone. One cannot come back from the dead."

Han paused for a long time before making one last effort. "That's a pity, Sir. I always thought we had a lot in common."

Luke stepped back, purposely dismissive, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end as he turned about. "You should take care it's not your demise, Petty Officer Solin."

He walked coolly away before Han could speak further, leaving him to lean out slightly to gaze down the row of Officers at Luke's receding back as he left the bay, every Petty Officer in the line-up staring first at The Heir then, when the bay doors finally closed, turning about in unison to look at Han.

Han straightened up again, letting out a slow breath; _Now_ he was sweating.

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Han was wandering nonchalantly down the main corridor on the Navigation Level, trying to look like he was sufficiently bored to be on official business, a borrowed automemo tucked under one arm- always handy to pull out and pretend to read when travelling in turbolifts and someone looked like they might try to engage him in conversation.

No more had been mentioned about the uneasy meeting, aside from the Personnel Officer, who'd given Han ten minutes of grief then suddenly changed his mind and decided that it might just be in his interest to suck up to the new Petty Officer who apparently went to the same art galleries as The Heir, and had consequently given Han an easy ride for the next few days. Which never hurt.

They'd gone into hyperspace the first night and no-one in the assorted messes and common rooms seemed to know where, so when the Patriot made a short drop into realspace, offering a chance to gain co-ordinates, Han had decided to go straight to the source and try a little trip to Navigation.

Now he just had to pick a room- there were about thirty so far in the Navigation section; way more than the last time he remembered being on a Star Destroyer, but then he'd never actually been on a Super Star Destroyer- He smiled a lopsided smirk at that; actually it wasn't true; he'd been taken to Coruscant onboard the SSD Executor with Luke… they just hadn't _seen_ much of it.

And now the kid from Tatooine owned one of them… had been given it by Palpatine himself. Funny how the galaxy turned…

Han finally chose a room at random and wandered in, looking busily down at his automemo screen as the door slid shut behind him. He risked a quick glance up, but there were only four men in the long, deep room, none of whom were looking. The nearest was stood before a screen of what looked like it might be useful info, so Han walked up casually, glancing back to the automemo as if reading it.

"Hey, I'm looking for Lieutenant Antilles?" Han picked the name of Rogue Group's Flight Commander at random.

"Antilles?" The non-com shook his head, "No- not here."

Han raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, "Doesn't work this shift?"

"Doesn't work any shift, Sir- not in here."

"Great." Han feigned frustration, glancing about, "Does _anyone_ know him?"

The man finally turned away to the others, giving Han an unguarded look at that screen. "Anyone know a Lieutenant Antilles?"

As the non-com's spoke, the door behind Han whispered open and he heard light footsteps. Turning casually, he recognised the man immediately; he'd taken the time to shoehorn all the leading players in the Patriot into his head before he'd set off but even without that, Commander Wez Reece was a well known figure around Skywalker these days, having risen from something between a bodyguard and an Aide to Adjutant-General of The Heir's household.

Han glanced away immediately, looking back to his automemo, and the man walked by without a second glance, heading to the input console at the far side of the room, all the non-com's immediately trying to look busy.

Han stared at the automemo in his hand until the backlit screen burned into his vision, wondering how soon he could retreat without drawing attention to himself…

Finally he looked up to the man beside him, "Ya know what, I think I need to check that name. Don't worry about…"

Wez Reece glanced back then away… then, as if changing his mind, he looked up again; "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

_Uh-oh._ "No thank-you sir. I'm just trying to track someone down- it's not a…"

"Who?"

"Oh…" Han stared again at his automemo; well this wasn't going well… "Lieutenant Antilles. It's not a problem; I'll just…"

Reece stepped around the console, heading toward Han.

"Lieutenant Antilles is in System Analysis." He drew level, head set slightly to one side, "Let me take you- I'm passing right by it."

Han stared for long seconds at the big, bulky man…

"Thanks." He said at last, and fell into step behind him as he headed for the door - what else could he do?

They walked in silence down the long, gray corridor, Han wondering firstly what the hell was going on, secondly, who this Lieutenant Antilles was - what were the chances of there really being someone with that name onboard - and lastly, more realistically, if he could take Wez Reece down and get off the Destroyer before they caught up with him.

He slowed as they reached Systems Analysis, but the tall man kept walking, so Han stopped, pointing at the door, which slid open, "Uuuhh?"

"This way please, Lieutenant." Reece turned away and continued, leaving Han to stare after him.

_See, now this really isn't good._ Han reflected, glancing momentarily inside before stepping away and continuing behind Reece.

They walked in silence to the turbolifts and travelled in silence to who-knew-where. By now, Han fully expecting to come out into a room full of stormtroopers- or maybe the Detention Level; just cut out all that chasing around and take him straight there _then_ arrest him.

He leaned back against the wall, feeling the reassuring push of the small holdout blaster he wore concealed beneath his jacket at the small of his back. His expert eye had already clocked that Reece's expensive, perfectly tailored clothes couldn't quite conceal the blaster he wore in a shoulder-holster beneath his own jacket- and he was pretty sure the guy also wore a vibroblade or something at the small of his back. He stood like a soldier too, back straight, shoulders just slightly tensed, expecting trouble. He turned to glance at Han, who tried an easy smile; it wasn't returned.

When the doors opened onto a quiet, wide corridor Reece stepped out without another word leaving Han to stare at his back, the smile quickly falling from his face then just as quickly reforming as the burly man turned slightly.

"This way please." Reece prompted, setting forward.

"And what exactly is that way?" Han said before stepping warily out, unable to keep the edge from his voice now.

But the man was already walking off, so after another brief pause Han followed, glancing up and down the spacious corridor, open to a long row of large viewpanes along one wall with an uninterrupted view of the Super Star Destroyer's impressive bulk laid out beneath it like a cityscape, the pale light of a distant star casting wan shadows across its bow. Han glanced again to the big man ahead of him, hand slipping to the small of his back as he walked, casually trying to ease the fitted Imperial uniform away from the his blaster; he probably wouldn't get a better opportunity than this...

They finally stopped at a door, the only one in the deserted corridor aside from its opposite end.

"It's uhhh… pretty quiet round here." Han tried, mentally calculating that he was close enough now that if he swung for the big guy with the automemo he was carrying, he may buy enough time to get his damn blaster free...

"Yes." The tall man turned to him without emotion, making Han freeze.

He knocked lightly on the door then pressed the release, and Han glanced inside, bracing himself, hand going automatically to his concealed blaster -

But the room seemed empty. Living accommodation, large and dark, luxuriously appointed with heavy, tastefully refined furniture. He looked back at his guide, who gestured inside with a small motion of his head. After another quick check down the corridor Han entered the low-lit room, glancing about, his attention taken momentarily by that same spectacular view as the empty corridor. The door slid shut behind him and Han turned, realizing the tall man hadn't entered…

Stood to one side of the large room, his dark clothes making him melt into the shadows, was Luke.

He remained still for a long time, just looking at Han, leaving him uneasy beneath that intense gaze. When Luke finally spoke his tone was no less unsettling, a strange mix of wryly amused and completely emotionless, his real accent completely buried beneath perfectly-modulated Coruscanti.

"You know, we always seem to meet onboard Star Destroyers."

It took long seconds for Han to find a comeback. "Yeah, but in my defence you seem to spend an awful lot of time onboard 'em these days."

"So do you," Luke countered easily, "Considering your allegiance." His tone was light and non-confrontational, yet there was something undefinable in his manner that was anything but. Han tensed, freshly wary.

"Are you gonna… put me out again?"

"Are you intending pointing that holdout blaster at me? The one under your jacket." Luke added, as Han took a breath to voice denial.

He paused, "Oh _that_ one- that's just for luck."

"It doesn't seem to be working very well."

"I dunno- it got me what I came here for… a chance to see you."

"You put your Alliance to an awful lot of expense just to speak to me."

"Well ya know, they wanted a few other stuff as well… like where you keep disappearing to. Wouldn't care to enlighten me would you?"

Luke remained silent, still shrouded in the shadows, neither offended nor compliant.

"Operating parameters for the DEMP maybe?" Han said, "Upgraded shield system? ….no?"

Luke remained mute for long moments, impassive, unmoving. When he finally spoke, his voice was calmly resigned, all emotion hidden beneath that formal accent, strange coming from his mouth. "Is that what you came all this way to ask me?"

"No… well yeah, but I didn't think you'd answer that stuff."

"What did you come her for, then?"

"I guess…. I came to see you - see if you're okay."

"You left it a long time to ask."

There was no trace of emotion in his neutral voice, neither accusation or judgement, but Han felt a crushing pang of guilt all the same. He glanced away, deeply uneasy, feeling the need to fill the stifling silence. " 'Course, why wouldn't you be- I mean, you have your own Star Destroyer now. Super Star Destroyer. Two in fact…. well, a fleet I guess, really. And, you know… that whole Heir to the Empire thing." He shrugged again uncomfortably, "But that's all just… stuff, isn't it?"

"Mostly. A few of them I need."

Luke stepped from the shadows, that unsettling aura still about him, everything locked up tight, nothing readable to Solo despite their years of close friendship. Han shifted uneasily beneath that unsettling gaze-

Then leaned in, noticing for the first time the dark flash in the kid's right eye. He knew of course about the deep, twisted scar - knew where it had come from - but this wasn't described in any of the documents he'd seen. "What did you do to your eye?"

"Someone tried to blow me up." Luke said mildly, "I thought you might have heard, given your interest in my wellbeing."

Luke watched Han's uneasy silence for several seconds before he relented, unable to stay angry at the Corellian, if he ever really had been in the first place. He shouldn't have come here but then Luke shouldn't have let him - could have stopped him at any stage.

He turned away, stepping to the console to pour two drinks, more to break the moment than anything else. To give Han as well as himself a few seconds grace, not wishing to hold him responsible for others' actions.

He wouldn't let them come between himself and the last real friend Luke Skywalker had. The very last to remember who Luke Skywalker was- because he couldn't remember himself anymore. To know that there was someone out there who still saw that unrealistic, painfully naive idealist when they looked into his face was strangely reassuring.

"So where's Chewie?"

Luke turned and walked forward to sit in a chair, his back to that impressive view, Han following and sitting opposite him. It was a long time since anyone had just sat down in Luke's presence without express permission, and the casual informality of it felt reassuringly reminiscent of simpler times.

"I woulda' brought him, but strangely we couldn't make him look convincing in an Officer's uniform." Han said glibly.

Luke smiled, allowing himself to fall easily into that mindset again, just for a moment. "You could've shaved him."

"Yeah, but I kinda like my arms attached to my body."

Han was aware that the kid had consciously dropped his accent to a more familiar, provincial drawl- not quite what it had been though; he probably didn't remember anymore; hadn't heard anything but high-class for six years. "He moults enough anyway, I already find his hairs all over the Falcon…"

He stopped, unsure whether he should mention this.

Luke only twitched his eyebrows in a casual shrug, looking away. "It was no good to me - and I believe you're the one who owns the registration documents."

"Actually Lando still has them- he could never quite bring himself to let 'em go. I have a bunch of others for it though- all legal of course."

"Of course."

The two stared for a long time, each taking the measure of the other. Han hadn't changed at all, Luke knew. He was still the brash, self-assured pilot who'd demanded ten thousand credits for the hop from Tatooine to Alderaan eight years ago… was it only that? It seemed another lifetime... another life.

Han studied Luke as the kid studied him... he still looked so young. Just a kid, trying to find a path through some serious pudu and keep sane at the same time. Who was Han to judge that- he didn't exactly have an impeachable record himself.

But the truth was that Luke wasn't the same - and now, sat before him, Han couldn't believe he'd been stubborn enough to try to convince himself otherwise. He could see it in the kids eyes, could feel it in the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, like hearing a noise in the dark; like feeling a storm front close in.

He looked again at the deep, jagged scar which marked the kid's cheek, from above his dark-cast eye clean down through his lips; noticed another on his neck half-hidden by the high collar of that impeccably-cut shirt.

The kid had changed - _had_ to change to survive - Han had seen plenty like that in his profession; it was nothing new. People who'd had it bad and did what they had to just to survive but somehow, somewhere along the way, gradually and without even realising it, they lost some vital part of themselves. You could always tell them because they had that same neutral, dispassionate look in their eye as Luke had right now. As if nothing touched them anymore- nothing even came close.

But he hadn't known any that made those hairs on the back of his neck prickle before.

"I'd like to thank you for that whole Bothawuii thing." Han said at last, "With the Falcon and all- they thought I was a spy for a while."

"Yes, they're quick to point the finger." Luke said then, as if correcting himself, "The Bothawuii thing?"

"I'd been trying to get Mon to move the venue of the meet fro weeks, then not only do you show up, but I get the Falcon back."

"Ah." Luke smiled tightly, "I could contact them if you like- put a good word in for you."

"Would'ja?" Han deadpanned, " 'Cos I'm sure that would work."

They both smiled then looked down uneasily. Luke waited the subsequent silence out, knowing what the next question would be. It took Han along time to say it, but he found the courage in the end, as Luke knew he would.

"What… happened to Mon?"

Luke met Han's eyes, determined not to be forced to feel guilty- more by himself than Han. "You know what happened- she was executed. She led a rebellion against the Empire. The penalty for insurrection is well publicized."

Han looked back down to his glass uneasily. Finally he murmured without looking up, struggling to find the words. "It's just… you knew her so well."

"Yes, I did- which was why it came as something of a surprise when she ordered my assassination." There was an edge to his voice now, the idealistic kid Han had known completely gone. "What was I supposed to do- let her keep on taking pot-shots at me until she suceeded? "

Han said nothing, and Luke relented slightly, his voice quieting.

"They didn't… she wasn't interrogated. I think Palpatine knew how…" He stopped; he'd been about to admit just how uneasy he'd been at Mothma's execution; that Palpatine clearly hadn't felt that interrogating her - and having Luke _know_ it - wasn't worth the alienation it would cause between himself and his precious Jedi. But he held to silence, refusing to be made to feel he should defend his actions against someone who had tried very hard to kill him.

"I dunno." Han murmured at last, "I just… don't know sometimes. It's all so…"

"Muddy." Luke finished knowingly into the protracted silence. "It was so much easier when it was black and white, wasn't it? They always say 'know your enemy', but that's as much a hindrance as a help."

Again the uneasy silence stretched, but it was less fraught now, neither man wishing the other any enmity. Eventually Han looked up. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to rule an Empire." Luke said simply, no trace of doubt in his steady voice. "What are you going to do?"

"I dunno. Try to stop you I suppose."

"You don't sound very sure."

Han looked up at the young man before him, confident and composed before someone who had just declared their intentions to stop him, despite the fact that Han wore a sidearm and Luke, clearly, had nothing at all. But then that hadn't exactly been a flyaway success. He studied his old friend for long moments, but Luke held his eye, composed and unruffled- and completely without chagrin.

"I once had a guy tell me- when I told him I was a smuggler, a mercenary - he said… 'You should be careful; the thing that you seek to claim has a way of reaching back and claiming you.' "

"Really?" the barest of ironic smiles touch the corners of Luke's scarred lips. "I once heard him say, 'Who's the more foolish; the fool or the fool who follows him.' "

Han smiled lopsidedly at having been caught out, then the smile fell away. "Do you..."

"Forgive him? For lying to me… repeatedly? No, I don't think I do. But then I'm sure he wouldn't forgive me for… my decisions since."

"Do you... hold him responsible for all this?"

The kid's face remained absolutely neutral, whatever was going on behind that mask completely hidden. "As I said; they were _my_ decisions."

Han pursed his lips, glanced away; seemed almost embarrassed to ask. But when he did Luke wasn't surprised- save that he hadn't asked the question sooner.

"Are you… Sith?"

"Would it change your view of me?"

When Han didn't answer, Luke frowned slightly, wrinkling the scar by his eye, "You once told me you didn't believe in the Jedi - one must assume by extension that you shouldn't believe Sith exist either."

"Things change. We all make mistakes."

"Yes… we do."

Han frowned at the distant tone in the kid's voice, but Luke realised immediately and whatever regrets were playing across his mind in that moment were instantly quashed. "Do you even know what a Sith is?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Should I take that as a 'no'?"

"If I said yeah, would you answer the question?" Han said, aware now that the kid was neatly avoiding anything he didn't want to answer.

"Probably not," Luke replied easily, amused that his bluff was being called, again surprised it hadn't come earlier. "Other than to say that a Sith would have no compunction about using a 'friend' to his own advantage."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Han realised even as he said it what the kid was getting at- it was Han, not Luke, who was asking all the questions here. Luke hadn't asked one, not about the Alliance, what Han was really supposed to be doing here, nothing. His friendship with Han lay outside of all other considerations.

Han frowned again, glancing at his drink, "Is this Corellian?" It was hardly a subtle change of direction, but then subtlety wasn't really Solo's style.

"Of course." Luke said. "I'd never dare serve you anything else."

"It's good- good vintage. I… um…" A long silence followed before Han looked up, shaking his head, "I don't… I have no idea what to say."

Luke held his gaze, face unreadable, that slight smile still etched on his features without ever reaching his eyes. "Ask what you want to ask."

Han paused a few seconds more… "What the hell happened?"

Luke didn't change that cool, composed expression, the brittle silence stretching out; but his mismatched eyes became distant, lost in memories Han couldn't begin to comprehend.

"I thought he'd kill me… I thought if I made enough noise and mess getting you out, he'd just kill me and that would be it… Then I woke up in a cell, and I thought, I can still do this- if I say no enough times; if I made it difficult enough, he'll kill me. But he never would, quite…"

He blinked as if breaking a spell and turned to Han, neither accusation nor abandonment in his gaze, but Han felt the guilt burn through him all the same, the memories of the dozens of times he'd wanted to go after the kid and let himself be talked out of it still smarting. Luke continued, face emotionless though his voice almost cracked, his accent recognizable now.

"I kept telling myself, 'One more day. Just make it through one more day.' And then another… and then another. And no-one ever came." He shrugged, oddly resigned, "But then I never really thought they would... I was where I was supposed to be - what I _wanted_ was immaterial."

Was that… regret? Han grabbed at it with both hands, some chink in that previously impervious armour. "You don't believe they're right…"

"I don't think you're right either - I don't think there _is_ a right - not anymore."

"Then leave! Just leave- get out of here."

"And go where? There's no place Palpatine wouldn't find me, not now. There's no-where left to hide. He'd raze a planet to track me down, burn through a whole system if he thought it would flush me from hiding- he's made that very clear and believe me he never bluffs."

"Go to the outer systems, the Unknown Regions. Take the Falcon- you can have her."

Luke smiled at that, knowing Solo meant it. "If I did I'd be signing your death warrant. And the Rebellion's. And anyone else who'd ever known me- anyone at all. He'd take you all down; first because he'd believe you'd helped me and second because he'd… he'd know that I'd sense it and eventually I'd have to come back just to stop it. And there are people here too now, people in the Palace who…" he stopped abruptly, as if realising what he was saying, those shields dropping into place with practiced ease. "And anyway; I need to stay. I have plans in motion and as I've told you, most of them involve my ruling the Empire one day. Which would be difficult to do from the back of beyond."

Han shook his head, frustration fuelling his discontent, but Luke only smiled again, amused at his friend's unease.

"I think," Luke said at last, "That one of the things I've learned being here is… not to take things so personally. Sometimes in the real world we have to accept that there are complications to every friendship. But that doesn't necessarily exclude them."

Han recognized the offer on the table... and why did the kid even have to check? He nodded, tipping his head, throwing out a casual jibe at his friend, "When the hell did you get so smart?"

The smile which had hovered on Luke's lips for so long finally touched his eyes, "Well you know, one of us had to grow up eventually."

They were silent for a moment, but it was less fraught this time, more comfortable. Han took a gulp from the brandy, still smiling into the glass…

Luke glanced sharply away then back to Solo, rising, his voice clipped and formal again. "Well this has been interesting, but I think it's time for you to go."

Han frowned, thrown by the sudden change in the kid's demeanour, "What?"

"Mara Jade's on her way up here and she doesn't keep secrets well."

Han glanced to the doorway Luke had already reached, himself rising. He almost asked how Luke knew, but stopped himself in time.

"She's been around a long time." he observed instead, "Are you and she uh…?"

Those mismatched eyes seemed to see clean through him. "She's still Palpatine's agent."

"Hey I didn't ask if it was serious."

The kid just smiled enigmatically, leaving Han to frown at his friend, curious…

"You need to take a left-" Luke said. "At the end of the corridor there's an emergency exit which has a deactivated alarm. Take the staircase up three levels- no further. When you come out onto the corridor you'll be under surveillance again but the lens is on your right hand side and doesn't cover the actual door. Turn to your left and don't look back and you won't be I.D.'d. Go straight to the nearest turbolift and _don't_ get off until someone else is in the lift- and don't press the floor you need."

Han nodded, frustrated that their brief discussion was coming to an end all too quickly, "We should... do this again."

"No, we really shouldn't." The kid stated unequivocally, though there was amusment in his voice. "When you get back to your quarters, you should pack your bags and go. I assume you can get your own transport?"

"Hey- it's me."

Luke broke into a genuine smile, quickly quashed, and Han couldn't help but do the same. He had, he supposed, everything he'd come here for; let the others take care of the rest. He'd come to find an old friend- and much to his own relief, he hadn't been disappointed.

"Good to see you again, kid. Take care of yourself."

Luke smiled just slightly, those strange mismatched eyes at once familiar and strange. Han nodded once then set off down the corridor, two steps away before Luke's quiet voice called out, "Solo-"

Han turned and Skywalker raised his eyebrows pointedly, though he was still smiling, "You sneak back onboard my ship again and I'll throw you in the brig."

.

.

.

Unexpectedly, still figuring out his escape route, Han was visited just a few hours later by the big, no-nonsense dark-haired Aide, who politely but firmly told him to gather his stuff, then led him in silence to one of the restricted Bays.

When the massive bay doors cycled open, Han's eyes skipped about, trying to take it all in. This was one of the 701st bays, he knew, out of bounds to all personnel except members of The Heir's own squadron. The Alliance had no information at all on the 701st, except that they were completely loyal to The Heir; no idea of numbers, vocations, units, nothing. General opinion in the Intel circuits was that this was because the Empire didn't either- you couldn't steal information that nobody had.

Less than half the soldiers present were in 'trooper's armour, the rest in fatigues, a few in civilian clothes. The ships too were a mix, mostly TIE's, a squadron of I-TIE's neatly stowed, several skiprays and blastboats to the rear of the bay, none with military markings; he took care to try to remember those- he may come face to face with them again when he was in the Falcon an if he did, he wanted to know about it. Nothing bigger here, but then there were nine bays in total dedicated to the 701st.

He was still glancing about, trying to remember specifics, when Reece slowed ahead of him, making Han turn. They'd stopped near the front of the bay, a sleek but not too new shuttle there. Luke stood close by, speaking to a tall, moustache'd man with sharp eyes and a casual, effected slouch. He wore civiian clothes and a time-worn gunbelt. The matt, oiled blaster in it was a newer moel of Han's own Blastech.

When Luke turned simply nodding in recognition.

"Karrde, this is Solin; Solin, Karrde."

The two men glanced at each-other, each giving the other a professional once-over.

"Karrde has agreed to give you passage to the nearest planet." Luke continued.

Han opened his mouth to object, but Luke kept on talking without acknowledging him, explaining away his change of heart at leaving Han to make his own arrangements to leave without giving too much away. "Unsurprisingly, we keep a close tab on the military ships assigned to the Patriot."

Han frowned, wondering if there was more to it than that, but clearly now, before Karrde, was not the time to talk. Still, he couldn't help but make one last ditch try, uncomfortable at being cornered like this. "Ah, you'd never miss one ship on a Destroyer this size."

"Until it turned up trying to sneak back onboard with a hold full of explosives." Luke said mildly, tone neither accusing nor judgemental. "Besides, Karrde is heading your way."

"Which way's that?"

"Out." Luke said succinctly; "Quietly."

He took a step back, clearing Han's path up into the shuttle, and Han nodded once, setting forward.

"Incidentally… Solin; you forgot something."

A second man who had been stood close by, short and slight with olive skin and sharp, watchful eyes, stepped forward to hand Han a small box. He took it warily, unsure what would be inside.

When he opened it, it contained the five transmitters that Han had spent the last few days placing in strategic points throughout the Destroyer.

"Thanks for that." he muttered dryly.

"No- thank _you_." Luke said with a tip of his head, but there was humour in his voice so Han rolled his eyes before hesitating, unsure what to say, aware that many eyes were on him - that so much had changed.

But some things remained the same, if only because Han wilfully kept them so.

"Be careful." He warned the kid, a brotherly tone in his voice.

Luke smiled, tightly, appreciative of the genuine concern, aware of his own for Han.

"Keep doing what you're best at."

For a moment Han frowned, uncertain what he meant, then a stray memory connected; of long ago, in the Rebel base on Yavin, the Death Star closing in; when Han had told the kid he was leaving - leaving the Alliance, leaving that whole sorry mess behind - told Luke if he had an ounce of sense he'd do the same.

"_Well take care of yourself, Han."_ The kid had told him, so fresh he probably still had Tatooine sand in his boots, _"But then I guess that's what you're best at, isn't it?"_

At the time it had been an insult, but they'd laughed it off within the day, gotten themselves fall-down-drunk and put the galaxy to rights the same night. It was all so easy, black and white. Reality... that was all the greys in between.

The Corellian nodded, suddenly melancholy, briefly smiling that lopsided grin before turning to walk up the ramp.

.

Karrde studied the Heir as he watched the unknown man walk up the shuttle ramp, aware that there was more going on here than met the eye- though that was true of most of his meetings with the Heir.

Luke watched in silence as Han disappeared into the ship, well aware of Karrde's curious eyes on him. His change of heart had been prompted by a reconsideration of just how much trouble Solo was capable of generating even when doing something as simple as leaving the Destroyer. Something would happen and it would all go ballistic- it always did with Han.

And even if it didn't, Palpatine would never believe that someone had simply stolen onboard a Destroyer that Luke commanded and made off with a ship. Especially when he went after the other spies, which he intended to do just as soon as Karrde left - which once more made Han's return to the Rebels a little muddy.

He had no idea what story Han would give for his time onboard the Patriot - whether he would admit to having spoken to Luke or not - but the opportunity to add a little ambiguity to the plot was just too tempting to pass up. Those who thought Han was trustworthy would believe this just another attempt by The Heir to muddy Solo's reputation in the Rebellion and those who thought him a double-agent would see it as proof for the very same reasons.

Plus it helped to alleviate the pressure from Argot, which was never something to be passed up on. Han would weather it unbothered, as he did most things, and it seemed that whilst their friendship remained intact, the occasional play wasn't out of the question; Solo hadn't come clean about the transmittrs after all.

Without turning, Luke waited until Han was entering the shuttle before saying quietly to Karrde, voice dry and distant, "Try not to shoot him- I know you'll be very tempted at times, but…"

"I'll endeavour to refrain." The mercenary said matter-of-factly, "Though with Corellians that can be hard."

"You're Corellian."

"Yes," The mercenary drawled, eyes still on the vacant ramp. "One has to appreciate the paradox that is my life."

Luke glanced sideways at Karrde before looking back to the now-empty ramp.

"Perhaps I should have told him not to shoot you." he said wryly. "Just drop him somewhere neutral; he can look after himself from there."

"I can imagine."

"And don't tell him _anything_."

Karrde's dark eyes came back quickly at that, "I thought you said he was one of your operatives."

"He is- he just doesn't know it. I'll be in contact." Luke turned before Karrde could quiz him further, glancing back as he left to add, "You should check your passenger- he's probably on your bridge by now."


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

.

.

Mara woke in the early hours of the morning and for long, sleepy moments couldn't work out why. They'd arrived at Endor two days earlier and Luke had spent the whole time on the new battle station, only returning a few hours ago to collapse into bed, exhausted. She'd curled up beside him, body hugging his, skin to skin, listening to his breathing in the darkness until he'd fallen into a broken, restless sleep, twisting and turning as he always did but never quite escaping his dreams.

Mara had laid awake in the darkness watching him, wondering what a Sith dreamed; terrible things? Nightmares and visions, barbed and twisted through with Darkness? Fractured foresight and future revelations perhaps… or simply dreams; moments and memories, hopes and fears all jumbled together, like everyone else.

He'd jolted awake with a gasp, jerking upright, arms held protectively before him, fingers splayed. For long seconds he stared breathless into the darkness, wide-eyed, chest heaving... then slowly tense muscles loosed as realization of where he was crept in and his breathing gradually returned to normal, and eventually he'd laid down on his back as his eyes closed, drifting again.

"Stop watching me." he'd murmured quietly into the darkness without opening his eyes.

Mara loosed a smile, "I'm not." She said, "I'm looking in your general direction."

"Well then look in some other general direction."

"I _like_ this one." she'd maintained gamely.

He'd remained silent for long seconds and she began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep, then he rolled from his back onto his side, draping his arm over her and pulling her closely to him so that she faced away, body laid within the curve of his.

"Go to sleep." he'd breathed against the back of her neck, and she'd settled, closing her eyes, lost in his warmth and his touch…

.

Which was what was absent now. Slowly it percolated into her drowsy mind that she was alone- Skywalker was gone.

But the pale greeny-blue glow of an automemo light traced a soft line around the partly-open door so Mara rolled quietly from the bed and catwalked towards the diffuse light in the room beyond. Luke was sat with his back to her, leaning back to balance on the rear legs of the chair at his desk on the far side of the room, his bare shoulders highlighted by the dim light of the automemo.

Frowning, Mara took a half-step forward in absolute silence.

Immediately, Luke hit a key on the automemo and the screen fell dark, throwing the room into hazy star-shadows from the viewport.

Mara frowned, pausing instantly. "What's going on?"

"I'm working."

"Well then why did you just turn it off?"

His head turned slightly, the muscles in his back tensing just visibly, five years of lessons hard-learned spelled out in the scars across his back and arms, just visible in the wan light, "Is that what you came in here to find out?"

Mara paused for long seconds; she'd been on the very edge of shouting at him, indignant at the accusation… but wasn't it true?

He sighed; "What the hell are we doing? Who do we think we're fooling."

"Not each-other, apparently." Still smarting from the near-break-up just a few weeks ago, Mara wasn't looking for a fight; "Actually I was just reflecting that your answer was good enough for me."

He turned, tone and words indulgent, full of mock belief. "Really? 'Cos now I'm completely persuaded of your good intentions."

She smiled, draping her arms about him where he sat, "Come to bed, pushover."

.

Mara laid her arm across him, head on his shoulder as they lay back down, the pale glow of distant stars their only light. He heard her sigh, felt her breath against his skin, felt her warmth, mental and physical…

A sudden regret washed over him- at what he didn't know; realization of what this had become perhaps? Fear that it wouldn't be enough when it came to the moment, as it hadn't been for his father.  
'_Darkness wouldn't care.'_; His father's words echoed in Luke's thoughts, a lifeline to cling to, a promise that he wasn't yet lost. But then his father had clearly cared a great deal for his mother… he still did. And yet and he'd still turned on her in the moment.

The words came from his mouth in a whisper before he'd even thought them. "Don't ever cross me Mara."

She tensed against him, "What?"

"Don't cross me."

"Is that a threat?" Her voice hardened slightly, but he couldn't muster the same, rueful.

"No; I don't threaten- not you."

She turned to look at him, "Well then what the hell was it?"

"I don't know… Just… don't. Don't cross me."

The sincere, heartfelt tone in his voice unnerved her. "…Why?"

"..I…" The truth was like a body-blow and it burned him to say it out loud; "…I don't know what I'd do."

Unsettled as she was, Mara didn't back down. "Hey, I can look after myself."

"Not against me."

There was no trace of doubt in his voice- and she knew why. She sat up now, turning to face him. He was looking not at her but at his left hand, using his thumb to turn the blue-stoned ring he wore on his little finger, lost in thought. "You'll… that moment will come Mara- my fate in your hands."

She shook her head, about to deny, to offer reassurance-

"Don't…" he cut in, refusing her automatic response. "I just… I don't know what I would do if you crossed me…"

Mara remained still but he looked away, deeply troubled. Eventually she reached out to touch his cheek but he shied back, taking her hand, unwilling to be comforted. Instead she glanced down at the ring on his hand as he took hers, wrapping slim fingers about it.

"Where is this from?" she asked at last. "You always wear it."

He shook his head; even this he couldn't tell her, for fear that his lies about surreptitious meetings with his own father would be uncovered. How could he live like this- but how could he leave her?

His eyes went again to the ring his mother had worn, the memory of his father's words on the day he had given it to Luke searing through his thoughts; _"You cannot be close to another- you cannot allow another to be close to you. Failure is inevitable and the consequences will spiral from your control."_

"I am not you." Luke murmured in quiet denial, as he had done that night.

"What?" Mara asked, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"Someone once told me that I could only destroy that which I loved."

Mara froze, green eyes wide, and the burst of shocked elation which radiated out from her brought Luke's own eyes up in surprise as she repeated hs word;

"…Love?"

Luke frowned… '_value'_- his father had said '_value'_. It was he who had said…

Should he be pleased or terrified? Or both?

She lifted his chin gently to look into his eyes, "You know I…"

"Don't say it." he whispered quickly, "Don't ever say it."

"Why?"

"…..What if I've cursed us both already?"

.

.

.

Leia settled into bed, tired to the bone, pulling up close to Han who murmured sleepily, arm settling about her. She closed her eyes and sighed, lulled by his warmth and his presence, even in sleep.

It had been a hard meeting tonight; Han had arrived back several days ago and been debriefed, telling the Chiefs of Staff exactly what had happened; about Luke, the meeting- everything. There were the usual questions about why exactly Lu… The Heir had let him go again, but they'd been less strenuous than before, more curious and confused than accusing.

Then word had come in tonight about the others. Tag, the Intel Chief, had announced that all agents onboard the Patriot had failed to report in at their regular contact time earlier that day and everyone had waited on tenterhooks, hoping for the best, fearing the worst…

They waited forty-eight hours before closing the files, marking them MPD. What was worse was that it placed all information they'd sent since their arrival on the Patriot into question - months of preparation and valuable covert surveillance all wasted, because now they had no idea when the agents had been discovered and therefore how much information had been falsely fed to them.

The fact that all three had been silenced at the same time was particularly damning, since it inferred that it wasn't a mistake on the agent's part; none had made contact with or known the identity of each-other, so the speed of their combined removal meant they were already being watched… all of them.

Which brought up another old issue- Tag maintained that the leak had to have been internal; from Home-One.

Despite the Intel Chief's rejection of it based on the fact that it was glaringly obvious and the Wolf just didn't work that way, all thoughts had turned to one person- the only one who had once again walked from a compromised mission unscathed; Han Solo.

She sighed, mind racing despite her physical exhaustion; why had Han been exempt- more than that, actively removed. His description of his departure meant it was clearly in a way which had been calculated to keep Han's presence there from the Emperor. And hadn't she received the same protection, when she'd been aboard the Patriot? No-one else in her team had- she'd been singled out, she knew that. Again a cold tingle ran down her spine at the memory of his warning cutting across every other thought in her mind, sharp as a blade; '_Run!'_

She jolted, resisting the automatic impulse to do that even now, a rush of adrenaline surging through her.

Why- why had he helped her? Because he knew her? But that made no sense; surely he knew her role in his exposure as an Imperial agent…

And if he was an Imperial, if he was the Emperor's Wolf, then why feel anything at all for her - for the friendship they'd had - because if he was a spy then it surely hadn't existed at all, above the role of agent and assignment.

Why let his arch-enemy, leader of the Alliance and the one who exposed him, go?

None of it made sense.

She drifted slowly to sleep, distant memories and absent friends rolling through her mind, tangled up with regret and betrayal and loss...

.

When she woke four hours later with a jolt, all those distant memories had seeped away into the cold dark of night, leaving only an eerie emptiness, a silence profound as the depths of space and for an instant - just a fragment of a second - she thought she had heard it even here… the howl of the wolf from her dreams.

She jerked upright, arms out to steady herself, head spinning…

For a split-second she thought that the massive Corvette had lost power - that this was the reason that she'd snapped awake, arms stretched before her to steady herself against the stomach-turning shift like gravity realigning - but Han only vaguely started, lifting his head, sleepy and surprised in the same moment, "What?"

Leia remained stock-still, waiting for the motion to level out, aware from his expression that Han felt nothing at all.

"What is it?" he murmured, dragging himself awake.

She opened her mouth to reply but realized she had no idea what to say…

All she was left with was one overriding feeling, one absolute truth;

"Something's about to happen."

.

.

.

Luke woke at dawn with a start, gasping a short breath in, Mara moving just slightly in her sleep beside him as he glanced about the room, the distant glow of the never-sleeping Coruscanti metropolis casting hazy shadows in the filtered gloom-

Then… like the galaxy realigning, like reality shifting, there was a stretched second of altered perceptions pulling his senses taught, making him tense against the wave of nausea and disorientation until the upheaval slowly ebbed, reality seeping back in, stabilizing, equilibrium restored… nothing and everything changed.

It took a second for him to acclimatize to the shift, remaining perfectly still, muscles tense, holding feather-light contact with the Force as he tried to chase down the nebulous feeling…

But the moment had passed, nothing left but trailing tendrils melting to nothing, insubstantial as ghosts in the night.

Uneasy, he turned over to nudge Mara. "Up. Get up."

She stirred again, eyes not yet open, "Mmm?"

"Mara- wake up."

This time she opened her eyes, voice and sense instantly awake, remembering where she was, of the danger they were both in simply by being together here, "What's wrong?"

"Something just happened- did you sense it?"

"_Sense_ it? no." She was confused more than anything; that he would even ask her such a thing.

"You did." he said tightly, "You have your hand to your head."

"I have a headache, that's all."

"Something changed."

Mara frowned as he rose, padding over cold fossilstone floors to the tall windows, keying the photovoltaic blackout down to let the glow of early dawn seep through, pale and diffuse.

"Get dressed." There was an urgency to his voice, a tenseness to his body as he turned without looking back. "Quickly."

"What did you sense?"

"I don't know. Nothing specific." he said, "It's… hidden. Something happened… something's happening right now, right here. You need to leave."

She nodded once, knowing better than to waste time with questions now; Luke wasn't the type to get spooked easily… and despite his outward calm, this was the most nervous she'd seen him in years.

.

.

She left moments after Luke, he leaving his private rooms to walk the long way round through rambling hallways in his sprawling apartment to the Morning Room, his surprised bodyguards in tow, affording Mara a hasty, unnoticed exit by carefully making her way to the Music Room, avoiding the main corridor as much as possible.  
She'd admitted to Luke long ago that there was a concealed stairwell in the large storeroom attached to the Music Room and they'd fallen back on it several times since then- enough that it had developed its own name in their coded shorthand; the Reserve.

.

Luke stood alone in the Morning Room amid tall paneled walls of ornate relief-carved wood, gazing out without really seeing, his shirt untucked and loosely buttoned, his feet bare, mind still completely lost in examining that ambiguous shift in the Force, the magnitude and the extent of it exceptional.

He was wrong; something hadn't happened. It was _about to_ happen; was happening right now, events tumbling forward like an avalanche gathering momentum, the mere fact that it was coming sufficient to send a shockwave sheeting through the Force.

Something… some elusive twist within it, originating here in the Palace, was radiating outwards with sweeping tendrils of cause and effect, some already in motion, others yet to fulfil.

He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, frustrated and tired, the hour so early it was almost still night. But every time he grasped some sense of heightened perception it scattered and he was left with nothing; vague impressions and hidden traces, like trying to follow the course of a single droplet in a gushing river…

His thoughts went instantly to Master Yoda, some distant memory triggered with acute intensity- but even as the thought came to mind it was lost, comprehension lying just beyond his reach, strangely reluctant to come, the path to that memory broken from moment to moment… somehow… _withheld_ rather than forgotten. Luke closed his eyes, searching within for an answer that he knew was bigger than himself.

Alternately goaded and coerced by Palpatine, Luke's attunement to the Force had increased exponentially in the last few years until it ran like oxygen in the blood through his veins, affording him a connection and a clarity like never before, a fact he kept carefully hidden from his Master, reluctant to offer further reasons for Palpatine to invoke claims of Force-induced inception or vague prophesies which bound Luke to some preordained destiny just as it had his father.

But it was still there, the connection which he had once strived so hard to achieve now as natural as breathing. And now every single fiber of his being told him that knowledge was barred; that the Force itself witheld-

But it didn't work like that- not for Luke, not anymore.

Jaw clenched he pressed on, tracing tiny embers, pushing through the barrier, searching for that denied connection, for that hair's-breadth sliver of access which remained always exposed at the verge of the shadows and the light-

Yoda's words, long ago, coalesced with ominous portent in Luke's mind; '_Like the flow of a river, some say the path of the Force is; that an individual- a Jedi- may alter the course occasionally, like a stone in water, but ultimately it still flows to the sea.'_

Why that - why now? Luke struggled to see the connection, to resolve muted intuition, diffuse and scattered, almost intentionally evasive. As if simply by searching he was pushing _against_ the will of the Force; a path not meant to be challenged, secrets never disclosed…

He crouched to a huddle, knees to his chest, arms out before him resting against his knees- and stilled physically and mentally; pinpoint focus, light and subtle, drifting into precise, flawless alignment with the Force; lost in the current, slipping through the flow like a fish in a river…

And within it was a sense of… convergence, a defining moment reached; a breach being resolved-

A fracture restored…

And then it was gone, the momentary empathy rebuffed, cold reality closing about him, making him shiver in the sharp dawn chill.

It occurred to him to contact his father; surely he too had sensed the disturbance. Vader had already been in the Palace when Luke had arrived three days earlier, his father having returned to Coruscant to await the first stage of the Executor's DEMP-refit.

But to contact his father now, so soon after the Force-shift, would raise the Emperor's suspicion when Luke had worked so hard to successfully mollify Palpatine over the past months.

He closed his eyes, head lowering in concentration, trying again to see the path - but the Force twisted in on itself, shadows within shadows.

All he knew for sure was one fact;

"Something's happening." he whispered to the dawn.


	30. Chapter 30

Mara arrived for her shift as normal almost an hour later. Luke had returned to his three private rooms, Mara crossing the dark, empty dining room to enter the lofty drawing room where Luke and Reece were talking. Reece glanced up, automemo in hand, from his seat opposite Luke in the drawing room, his back to the bedroom. He held her eye for just a moment in acknowledgement, then turned back to Luke. "… which require your attention, though they can wait until your return if you'd prefer?"

Luke too turned about to glance briefly over to Mara as she entered, then turned back to Reece, "No, put the documents on my 'reader, I'll deal with them on the flight over then transmit them back to you. I need to get moving as soon as possible."

Reece nodded, marking his own notes as such. "If so they can be in place by the time you return; it should only take three days to have all the reassignment details operative. Core-Fleet personnel will be assembled onboard the Patriot to be transferred to Project Redress when it next returns. Rim-Fleet personnel will board at Sullust."

"Good."

"Also Flight Con contacted your office. Your shuttle and escorts are prepped as per your request; they requested a departure time- at your convenience."

"Did you contact Lord Vader's Aide?"

Luke knew he had to be in Mosiin Province, two hour's south, by midday on another minor errand for the Emperor which any number of people here could have attended to, but it was also an opportunity for him to pick up a little new technology; Ghent, Karrde's prodigy slicer, was waiting there to load a new cipher code onto Luke's automemo, ready to download into various systems, downlinks, uplinks and comlinks in his offices here on Coruscant.

Aware that his existing ciphers must be the sole interest of a good many slicers under many masters, not just the Emperor, Luke had long held the habit of employing several codes, both official and unofficial, replacing them at random intervals rather than when he felt his security may be compromised- one thing his stint with the Rebels had taught him was that if you even suspected it, then it was probably too late.

But he also wanted to discuss the Force-disturbance with his father before he left. Luke was due to remain at Mosiin only three days, though something at the back of his mind told him even that would be far too late. Again Luke tried to see what had caused the rift...but the knowledge twisted and collapsed in on itself, looping back in a continuous twist of cause and effect, its consequences stretching as far into the future as he could see, yet right now it was still so small as to be insignificant, so mundane as to be easily overlooked; forgotten... he could so nearly see it... almost touch it. The fingers of his left hand closed involuntarily, aware that it was right there in front of him, almost close enough to touch!

Luke opened his eyes, staring without seeing at Reece sat directly before him, his back to the wall, his expression anxious and apprehensive.

He dragged his mind back to the moment; to what he needed to achieve here and now. Vader was in the Tingarn Imperial Barracks less than two hours away to the North, but Luke couldn't be seen to hold off going to Mosiin Province to speak with him, and anyway, he wanted to be away from the Palace as quickly as possible, knowing that the longer he remained the more likely it was that Palpatine would call for him to discuss the strange disturbance, and somehow he felt deeply unwilling to do so.

It occurred to him that if Vader made some excuse to remain at Tingarn Barracks overnight then Luke could fly to Mosiin as ordered and slip away around midnight after he had supposedly retired. If he took an Interat-TIE, he could effortlessly reduce the four-hour journey to less than three, enabling them to speak in far more safety than they ever could here in the Palace, and still be back by dawn…

There was only one flaw in that plan; Mara. It was she and not Reece who was assigned to accompany him to Mosiin. If Luke tried to slip away under cover of night then one way or another she would know.

Wez was looking expectantly at him, and Luke blinked; "Say that again?"

"I said, Lord Vader's offices informed me he is scheduled to return to the Palace tonight." Reece repeated, already aware that Luke needed to speak to his father urgently and this would necessitate an editing of plans, so he was braced for a tense day.

"Fine. In that case we'll set off now." Luke turned to Mara, "Are you ready to go?"

She blinked, surprised, "Right now?"

He merely looked at her and, realising she should correct her tone this publicly, Mara stood quickly; "Yes- I'll just need to return to my apartments…"

"Do it now." Luke glanced to Reece as he rose, "Inform Flight that we'll depart immediately."

The moment Mara had left Luke turned back to Reece. "Contact Lord Vader on a secure channel; tell him to find a reason to stay at Tingarn Barracks tonight; I'll meet him there. He needs to arrange for clearance for an Interat-TIE with a non-military ID to land and give me the permission code- I'll fly in alone around three hours after midnight. When you get the code, transmit it to me in with a few documents- anything will do. Also tell him I'll bring the key to a new cipher code which'll be in effect from midnight tomorrow."

Reece nodded committing this to memory- there were some things one never wrote down. "What will you do about Jade?"

Luke pursed his lips, "I don't know yet, I could do with leaving her here but that's impossible. I'll think of something- I have 'till nightfall."

Reece considered; "Perhaps it would be better for Lord Vader to return to the Palace tonight then…"

"_NO!"_ Luke interrupted, more forcibly than he had intended... why? He calmed, aware that his chest and shoulders had tensed. "No- tell him to stay at the Barracks… it's important."

Reece nodded but, seeing Luke's eyes turn to the door, his question was left unsaid.

It was Hallin rather than Mara who walked in, as Reece had expected, performing his customary neat bow before looking up, glancing from man to man, as yet unaware of the morning's events. "What- have I missed something?"

.

.

Within the hour Luke was heading down from the West Tower to the restricted landing platform set to the rear of the Main Palace roof where his unit was waiting to launch, having contacted the Emperor's office and received permission to depart, Mara and a small contingent with him.

He'd contacted the Emperor's Offices rather than the Emperor himself by comm as early as possible that morning, hoping that his permissions would be pre-approved. Since the trip was on the Emperor's command, he'd gambled that all authorizations were already in place, and sure enough the relevant permissions had been transmitted and now he had every intention of leaving before his Master changed his mind.

It occurred to Luke belatedly to wonder whether Reece would check that there was a squadron from the 701st in his escort- without them his chance of getting a TIE off base without it being queried at Mosiin Barracks was slim. The 701st answered only to Luke, so provided he supplied advance clearance, their movements and more importantly, pilot ID's wouldn't be queried by the Commanding Officer there. Plus their fighters had the necessary stealth equipment onboard to ensure a covert flight beneath general radar, provided he didn't fly too close to the Palace.

He frowned, not breaking pace; he could ask Reece to check that his escort was 701st on an open comlink without raising suspicion, and Reece would undoubtedly realise the rest. Turning to Mara at his side, he held out his hand, "Comlink please?"

Mara nodded, hand going to her belt, used to Luke using her or anybody else's comlink if they were close- he never carried his own…

Luke turned round sharply, sensing Mara's panic as she fumbled at her belt-

"What?"

Mara moved a half-step closer so that she couldn't be overheard, heart fluttering against her chest; "I left it in your apartment."

"Where?" Did he really need to ask?

"It must have been when I left in a hurry." It was an excuse she knew, and she was better than that- she shouldn't need one and even if she did she certainly shouldn't voice it.

Luke walked on for several steps, silently cursing. It would be easy to reassure himself that no-one would see it in the bedroom of his private quarters, but there were any number of Palace servants who entered there legitimately and despite their being in his own personal house staff, not all of them could be trusted- some quite the opposite.

It would be all too easy to convince himself that they would naturally assume it his, but everyone knew he never carried one, his own choice in an effort to make himself a little harder to track or spy on. He briefly considered contacting Hallin or Reece via another comlink, both of whom were still in his apartments waiting to carry out his orders, but to do so would simply reinforce their opinions as to the recklessness of the risks he took. Which left one choice;

"Go and get it. Quickly."

She turned and set off through the Palace at as near to a run as she dare, aware of how damning it could be if found- to both of them.

Instead of taking the main entrance to Skywalker's apartments, Mara stopped three storeys below at the level providing standard quarters as well as kitchens and house service facilities for servants who staffed the sprawling Perlemian Apartments- Luke's apartments. Two storeys above and below his apartment had always been closed off, crammed with fortification and reinforcements originally designed to hold the Emperor's Jedi, and surveillance intended to confirm and ensure his obedience once Palpatine had gained him.

To one side of the large, heavily-staffed kitchens was a direct access which had since been cut through the security measures- an access staircase and automated dumb-waiter which led directly up into the Grand Hall and the State Dining Hall beyond… but there was also a second, concealed entrance hidden behind a blank at the end of a little-used corridor in the refrigerated stores- The Reserve.

It was this unmonitored covert entrance which Mara used, intending to keep her return below the radar, coming out in the walk-in store in the Music Room of Luke's apartment. From here she slipped through the West Drawing Room, skipping quickly across the main corridor and into the massive, opulent but little-used Stateroom, coming out into the corridor which led to Luke's private rooms.

It was the route with least surveillance, though in truth it wasn't particularly the lenses Mara wished to avoid- she had every right to be in Luke's apartments and could easily have been picking up anything for him, particularly since the last three rooms she would enter had all surveillance routinely nullified by Luke to ensure his own privacy. But the fact was she didn't want to be caught by Reece, Skywalker's other 'watcher', the eyes and ears of Palpatine in Luke's private rooms- and the reason why the Emperor was confident enough to allow Luke the occasional dissent in disconnecting security lenses.

Nor did she want to face Hallin particularly, whom she knew would just take the opportunity to get high and mighty with her, particularly if he found out why she was here.

But it seemed she'd made it without encountering anybody, staff and security routinely moving to the entrance to the apartment – either to the Staff Wing or to the Guard's Rooms - when Luke wasn't in residence. She was halfway down the last hallway, congratulating herself at having made it so easily, when the door to Luke's private rooms began to open-

Glancing to her left, Mara slipped quickly through the door there and into Luke's office, the only other room which had nullified surveillance, hoping to avoid whoever it was, thinking she recognised Reece's voice as she did so.

She backed across the large office, suddenly fearing he would use this common short-cut to the Staff Wing-

Her eyes were drawn momentarily to the bulk of the massive desk and she took three steps toward it, intending to hide beneath, before changing her mind at the last moment and heading for the second exit opposite the one she had entered. She was halfway there when the door release sounded behind her-

Knowing she wouldn't get out and manage to close the automatic door in time, she ducked into the small fresher close to her, this door opened by hand. She'd made the right decision, because she barely had time to pull it closed, carefully holding the handle to silence the latch sliding home, before whoever it was entered the room, their voice muffled but audible.

"…wish he wouldn't. It's an unnecessary risk, to go so far out of his way. It'll mean he's gone around seven hours- that's a hell of a long time for something to go wrong."

It was Reece's voice; Mara listened in silence, ear to the door, willing him to walk straight through the office and out again at the other exit.

"He must feel it's important enough to warrant it. You know he wouldn't take the risk otherwise."

Hallin's voice- he must be with Reece; Mara heaved a silent sigh of relief at having avoided them both.

"And in a fighter!" Reece continued, unmollified, "He needs to get a ship out of Mosiin Barracks, fly it dangerously close to Palace surveillance _and_ get it into Tingarn Barracks where his father is, all under the radar."

'_His father… at Tingarn Barracks'_- they were talking about Luke!

"I thought Interat-TIE had a low…" Hallin hesitated, instantly out of his depth, "Radar… silhouette or something?"

"Radar _profile_, and they do, but the stormtroopers in both Barracks have eyes in their heads- and ears. It doesn't matter how radar-reflective the I-TIE is or how many release orders he issues at Mosiin, he's still got to land it at Tingarn."

Mara frowned now, her curiosity peaked. If Luke was intending to go to Tingarn Barracks then it was clearly without the Emperor's permission…

"Which reminds me- I should probably check that it's one of the Echo flights from the 701st who accompany The Heir to Mosiin- theirs are the only fighters which have been modified to have their call-signs adaptable. He can't very well broadcast a 701st military ID heading into Tingarn."

They hadn't moved from the office, but now Mara's original reason for hiding was forgotten in this rush of information-

"Oh!" Hallin said quickly, as if remembering, "He told me to tell you that if it was fast enough, he'd take Karrde's slicer's ship instead- it'll be somewhere very close to Mosiin Barracks when he gets there, he said, because the slicer's dropping off a code or something... did I not mention this? He said to still get an Interat-TIE prepped though, in case it's not."

"Where was I when this little chat was going on?"

"You were on the comm and Jade had come back into the room- he only had a moment; he whispered it to me."

"Is there anything else, before I go and arrange a meeting The Heir's already changed his mind about?"

Mara felt her head buzz as the implications of all this suddenly sank in; Reece knew already... he _knew. _The only way he could know all this was working for Luke... he was working for _Luke_!

Her mind went again to the Emperor's decision to appoint Reece as Skywalker's Aide, recruited by Pestage on Palpatine's order; he'd maintained that Reece's usefulness was in his capacity to unknowingly blunt his thoughts; nothing intentional or preconceived, he simply had what Palpatine referred to as a 'quiet mind'. It was this which had earned him his coveted position as Luke's Aide; the fact that his status as Palpatine's agent wouldn't be detected. And sure enough, Luke seemed not to have realised, eventually accepting Reece after a long, wary period of distrust…

Only it wasn't acceptance at all, Mara realised- it was recruitment; Reece had spent so long in Skywalker's company and Luke always took such care to remain for the most part out of surveillance, even here.

He'd had all that time- years- to unravel Reece. And who would know? Reece was deep cover, reporting to Pestage and intentionally given no direct contact with Palpatine. At a distance that naturally 'quiet mind' had clearly bought Reece immunity from the Emperor's scrutiny.

Had Skywalker know this- was that why he'd recruited him?

A stray thought came to mind, of long ago - the very first night that she'd secretly stayed in Luke's apartments in the Palace - the following morning when Hallin had come racing into the bedroom with a warning that Amedda was on his way there; she'd realised then just how trusted _Hallin_ was, that he already knew about Luke and Mara's affair… but Luke had mentioned someone else too- had told Hallin to arrange for Wez to help hide Mara's presence there.

At the time, in the panic of the moment, it had slipped past simply because Luke had referred to Reece by his first name; Wez. He _never_ normally did so in front of her; it must have been a slip under pressure. Now, she wanted to slap her forehead in frustration.

Why hadn't she spotted it?!

Luke could feed Palpatine anything- any information at all under the guise of reliable information diligently logged and reported to Pestage by Reece, always third-party because he was a trusted, deep-cover agent; no direct contact which may have compromised his cover.

Now, Mara realised just much freedom Luke really had; aside from herself, Reece had been the other constant undercover source which Palpatine had relied on to know Luke's movements when he was beyond automated surveillance… and here he was helping Luke sneak out under the Emperor's nose - in the Capital no less - to see his father!

_His father!_ Mara hitched in a breath at that, her hand raising to cover her open mouth in disbelief; because this clearly wasn't some incredible, one-off event- this was routine. Luke had been holding secret meetings with Vader… the two people whom Palpatine absolutely _would not_ allow any amity between had been meeting in secret for how long? Years, possibly-

Reece was speaking again, Mara barely hearing the first few words; "…immediately- command protocol; group three-nine-nine-six."

"Acknowledged; wait." The voice was unidentifiable, filtered as it was through a comlink. Mara waited in silence, part of her not wishing to know more, uncertain now what she should do.

How could Luke do this- to her, to Palpatine. How could he jeopardise everything he had built here for… for what? She wasn't even-

"Commander Reece." Vader's bass tones were unmistakable, even on a comlink.

"Lord Vader- you are in a secure location?"

"Yes."

"I'm charged to pass on a message from The Heir, my Lord; he asks that you remain at Tingarn Barracks tonight. He will make his way…"

"I am scheduled to return to the Palace- to remain would be problematic."

"I appreciate that, my Lord, but The Heir was insistent that this was imperative. He wishes to speak to you in person about the morning's… event. I believe he feels it to be time-sensitive."

"Where is he now?"

"On his way to Mosiin Barracks. He intends to fly from there to Tingarn tonight using- "

"Out of the question. The risks are too great."

There was a world-weary tone to Reece's voice now, as if this was far too regular-an occurrence in his own opinion as well as Vader's, "Indeed, my Lord; however, he would not be dissuaded."

Somewhere in the back of her head, the professional agent in Mara silently noted the familiarity to the exchange, the sense of prolonged association which indicated a long-standing situation.

"………… Very well. I will remain at Tingarn. Inform him to contact me on a secure channel when he departs Mosiin and again when he nears Tingarn Barracks. I will arrange for a secure landing site outside the Barracks and meet him there."

"Thank you Lord Vader; I'll inform The Heir shortly."

There was the slightest pip as the channel closed, then a moment's silence, Mara still hidden bundled against the door in shock, her hand to her mouth.

"I need to find out which 701st unit is accompanying The Heirwhich units are accompanying The Heir." Reece's voice grew nearer as he approached the office door, "If I need to tag on one of the Echo flights I need to do it now before it looks inappropriate."

"Wouldn't it be better to do it from here?" Hallin's voice too grew closer.

"No, if I do it, it needs to be through official channels- I need to be in the Staff Wing for that."

The exit door slid open, Reece's voice cut off as it slid noiselessly closed behind him.

Mara stood for a long time in the dark of the tiny room, bewildered, wounded and outraged in the same moment, thoughts buzzing, hands shaking against the adrenaline of conflicting emotions and loyalties…

.

.

.

Waiting on the wide expanse of the black-tiled landing platform, hair whipped about by the high wind on top of the Main Palace, Luke gazed dispassionately out over the distant, haze-obscured spires of the city, thoughts still on the impenetrable Force disturbance that morning.

He glanced easily over to the distant guards just visible at the Tower entrances, all blue-clothed Palace Guards here on the open roof. They stood to smart attention, part-obscured by the utilitarian lines of the Lambda-class shuttle, wings folded up though its engines were active, awaiting Luke's permission to take off. To the far side of the platform, adding their own noise to the boom of the shuttle's engines, were six Interat-TIE's from the 701st, his close escort, though he knew that two squadrons were active and ready to launch from the Palace Barracks below when the shuttle was finally airborne… which would be as soon as Mara returned.

His thoughts went to Reece's question earlier; how _would_ he sneak leaving the Barracks overnight past Mara? What he needed was a reason to keep her busy overnight at the Barracks, away from his empty quarters… or better still, not to have her go- to leave her here somehow.

He frowned, looking again to the flight-ready I-TIE's; if he just left now… No; she'd just get in an I-TIE and follow- and be fuming into the bargain when she landed. Which might not be such a bad thing… an argument might-

Mara practically burst out onto the massive granite landing platform seconds later and he turned to face her as she walked clear of the collonade, knowing instantly that something was _very_ wrong.

She stormed over, eyes ablaze, shouting over the thrum of the engines, so furious that for a few seconds she couldn't string her words together. "What… just… what the hell did you think you were doing!? How long did you think you could get away with it _here_ of all…"

Luke strode quickly out to grab her by the top of her arm, yanking Mara forward with enough force to shock her into momentary silence as he hauled her roughly back over behind the shuttle, where he knew the all-pervasive surveillance wouldn't have a clear line of sight.

She tried to yank free of him, fuming, but he kept a tight hold as he spun her about to face him, his tone low and quiet and very serious.

"You'd better get a grip right now because you don't want me to shut you up."

His tone gave her a split-second's pause but she wouldn't back down, head shaking. "You've crossed the line. I know all about your little clique- about Reece and Hallin… and Vader. I know you're going to see Vader tonight.

Luke remained silent for long seconds, eyes locked on hers, jaw clenched, thoughts buzzing-

When he finally spoke his voice was muted; hard and resigned in the same moment. "Well congratulations Mara- welcome to my life… have you told him yet?"

She knew exactly who Luke meant; "No I haven't told him! Stars, he'll rip you to pieces, you realise that!?"

Luke set his head on one side, tone sarcastic, "No, that hadn't occurred."

"Don't- don't even start…"

"Don't what? What the hell am I supposed to do Mara- you tell me? I can't stay like this forever; I can't keep doing whatever he orders… I _won't_."

"He gave you _one_ inflexible order- would it have been so hard to keep?"

Momentary confusion shadowed Luke's eyes and thoughts alike as he ran quickly back over her words in his mind- '_I know about Reece and Hallin… I know you're going to see Vader tonight.'_

That was it! That was what she knew- _all she knew!_ He'd thought she'd uncovered the insurrection when all she knew was that he secretly met with his father, and Reece and Hallin were aware of it.

The momentary burst of relief evaporated in a second at the realisation; she may not think him capable of more - didn't _want_ to think it - but if she told Palpatine even this much…

He'd know… he'd know what Luke was doing. Or rather he'd suspect and for Palpatine that would be enough. He wouldn't _care_ if it was true, or why.

Mara tried again to twist free but he held on to her, aware that even though they were hidden from the security lenses, the noise of the multiple engines drowning out their voices, he was still in deep trouble. He had to calm her down- talk her down.

Should he lie? It would be so much easier- she'd _want_ to believe him; she always had.

As if hearing his thoughts she bit out, still livid, "You lied to me."

And he had, so many times. It had been so easy… and he knew why; "You lied to yourself Mara. I only let you."

She stilled, fiery temper shocked into momentary consideration and he shook his head, tone softening. Could he trust her? Should he? The Force was like a wind at his back, pushing him on…

So why did he hesitate?

_Do it…_

"You keep on telling me you want me to trust you, you want me to let you in… well now you're in."

"This isn't what I meant."

"No." he said, "You wanted a convenient, comfortable trouble-free truth. You wanted _your_ truth, _your_ way. But it's not mine and it never was - I never made any secret of that Mara. You want me - you want me to trust you? You want to step forward through that barrier? Well this is it, Mara… it's now or never."

"Is that an ultimatum?"

"No, it's just a fact. You always knew it would come to this- that one day you'd have to decide between him and me."

"Don't Luke; I won't be held to ransom by anyone - not even you."

"I'm not trying to force your hand Mara. I would have left this forever, you know that. I would never have asked …"

"You'd have kept me in the dark! Kept lying to me!"

"Protected you…"

"Copishit!"

".. from ever having to be in this position." Luke said, his voice hardening now. "Don't play the injured innocent Mara- it doesn't suit you. We both knew we were playing with fire…"

"Me!? I've done nothing wrong!"

"No? Where were you last night?" he asked, pulling no punches, "How close have we been this last year? You saw the signs, Mara, you must have, you just chose not to read them. Your loyalties have been divided for a long time - you started this, not me. You've been holding me to ransom since I first met you... I've lived with your double standards for a…"

"_I_ have double standards!? You're disobeying a direct order from the Emperor- a _fundamental_ command; No unauthorised contact with Vader- none! He's always made that clear- what you're doing is a premeditated defiance bordering on treason and you know it!"

"Yes I'm disobeying; it's an unreasonable command; he's my _father_, Mara. What's your excuse, with us?" His words were clipped now, his own fast temper rising to match hers. "You saw something you wanted and whatever the hell irresolute morals you still had just became… what? An inconvenience?"

She twisted free and took a fast step back, and when she swung her arm up it was in a fist.

Luke stepped in quickly and caught her closed fist in his hand, reflexes like quicksilver. For a second she struggled to free herself but he was far stronger than she and merely held her hand until she stopped, her eyes full of fire.

"I won't let you do this Luke- I _can't_ let you. It has to stop, do you understand?"

He shook his head slowly, eyes locked on hers.

"Don't make me stop you, Luke- because I only know of one way to do that, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"That's your decision to make, Mara- either you tell him, or you let this go.…. But this is all or nothing, understand that - I won't be held to ransom any more and I'm not gonna have this argument with you again and again." He shook his head, voice very sure, "And I won't go down to that cell again- the only way he'll get me down there is in pieces."

"You know he'll do that. Without a second's hesitation."

"Yes… and so do you. Which makes it _your_ call Mara. Not Palpatine's; yours. Whatever happens, it's on _your_ head - no more easy excuses."

They remained locked in silent battle for long seconds, neither willing to give a fraction of an inch. Finally, Skywalker straightened and took a step back, releasing her, though his eyes never left hers.

"But let's lay all the cards on the table, just so you understand; I'm flying to Mosiin Barracks now_ as ordered_. And if I'm under arrest when I land, you'd better make sure there's a hell of a lot of them waiting because the moment I think you've betrayed me I'm turning around and walking out of there forever… and you'd better tell them all to shoot to kill, because there is _nothing_ they can do short of that which will hold me. Not anymore."

He turned to walk around the shuttle to the nose ramp, back very straight, chin high, completely self-possessed.

"Don't-" Mara said simply. The word, part warning, part appeal, stopped him at the ramp.

"Your choice, Mara." He said without turning, "My fate's in your hands- didn't I always tell you it would be?"

.


	31. Chapter 31

Mara stood statue-still on the massive Palace landing platform and watched Luke leave, shoulders sagging, completely lost.

What should she do? She had no idea- none at all. His last words rang again and again in her head, so much so that she wondered whether he'd used the Force to instil the thought.

Fate. Him and his stupid, stubborn, irresponsible, dangerous _Fate_. Was that what this was- just another test, another of his bizarre opportunities for Fate to even the score if it was meant to be, or whatever the hell reason he took these reckless, unreasonable risks?

Had he pushed his luck to the limit again just to see how far he could go before it all fell down about him?

He could have lied to her and she would have believed him. And even if she didn't he could have charmed and cajoled her as he always did. Why this? Why admit the truth when he knew it could damn him- and to Mara, who had never hesitated to make her allegiance known.

Him and his precious intractable, uncheatable Fate. Damn them both, Mara thought. And damn Vader for colluding; for putting his own son at such risk, _knowing_ the consequences.

He knew - Luke _knew_ what she would do and she wouldn't be made to feel guilty for doing her duty.

She set forward from the roof, jaw jutting in determination… and slowed to a stop, shaking her head.

Because he really was telling the truth. He wouldn't yield to Palpatine again- not now; not anymore. Forewarned, he'd never let them get close enough to use the drugs; he wouldn't be taken and he wouldn't be brought back to the Palace… and what would Palpatine do, when his Jedi wouldn't back down this time?

He would rip Luke to pieces- completely, as he had done when he'd had first arrived here. Worse, because Luke would be that much less willing to capitulate. The last time had nearly killed him- had changed him completely at some fundamental level, even she could see that.

But Palpatine would do whatever was necessary to take his precious Jedi apart and rebuild him again, just as he had before. Luke was simply worth too much to him.

And what would be left when he had finished? Not the man she… loved.

What little _was_ left would despise her for being the one who did this to him- who knowingly turned him over to his persecutor.

_Persecutor?_ Mara frowned at the concept… at the belief. At the consequences...

For a brief moment she wavered, indecisive, lightheaded, weightless, as if the galaxy itself held its breath…

Then she shook her head, suddenly intensely sure;

She couldn't do it. If she did this - if she took this to Palpatine - she condemned Luke.

And she couldn't do that. At the end of the day, it all came down to that one fact.

She _couldn't_ do it.

Was this what he had really wanted - to give her the chance to come to this decision on her own?

No tricks, no deceptions… just the truth. All of it.

Funny; she'd always been terrified of this moment. He was right, she'd always known it would come and dreaded it- when she'd have to make the choice; Luke or the Emperor. Now, finally brought to this moment, it seemed incredibly easy.

She walked slowly from the platform, head down, lost in thought… unbelievably easy…

.

The summons to the Emperor's presence came three hours later- enough of a gap that Mara was unsure whether it was connected or not. Enough that she hoped…

She walked slowly down long, lofty corridors to his sprawling apartments, arranging layer after layer of shields about her thoughts as Luke had taught her, aware of the distinction this time; of the gravity of her situation. Before it had been a minor dissent, if there was such a thing in her master's eyes, tinged with Luke's insistence that Palpatine already knew the truth about herself and Luke even if he chose not to acknowledge it.

This- this was different; this was treason. A heavy iron band tightened across her chest, heart hammering at that thought; _treason_.

No matter how Luke validated his actions, rightly or wrongly it was still the premeditated, repeated disobedience of a fundamental rule; a primary order which had been intentionally breached. And knowing that, she became accessory to the fact- which was tantamount to committing it in her master's eyes.

This was more than an impassioned lie; more than the insignificant steps she'd taken to hide their harmless trysts. Never, in her whole life, had Mara disobeyed a direct command from her master; never.

She didn't want to this time; she didn't _want_ to betray him now either…

She only wanted to protect Luke; if she could have done that without lying to her master then she would, but Palpatine was forcing the lie… because Mara knew what he would do if he found out.

Still, the guilt twisted her stomach and seemed to steal the air from her lungs, making every breath laboured. She wished Luke was here, if only in the Palace- some support; reassurance, no matter how muted. But this was her decision, hers alone. And that was how she needed to achieve it; alone.

She'd made her choice, now all she needed to do was follow through.

She walked, breathless, beneath the high arch which marked the Emperor's private apartments; past the row of eight Royal Guards who stood to still attention, a scarlet streak against the dark ebony walls, and into the vast, circular central hall, three storeys high, a sweeping double-staircase hugging the curved walls, carved from mirror-polished black stone with subtle, fiery veins of deep blood red tracing through, its imposing scale dwarfing the few who were allowed access even this far.

She paused momentarily then walked on beneath the first landing of the immense stairwell, feet leaden, instantly lost in the shadows and the columns of the dark, echoing space, knowing where her master would be.

Knowing what she had to do.

Was this how Luke faced the Emperor; every summons, every meeting, heart pumping, hands trembling, anxious and fearful that somehow Palpatine imagined, he suspected, he _knew_.

How had he held out against this? How could _she_? Because even now, committed as she was… without even facing her master, without looking into those sharp, perceptive eyes-

Already she feared that she would slip, that she'd crack, concede….

Already she feared she'd crumble.

.

.

Palpatine stood at the far side of the cavernous three-storey Receiving Room, the light from the long banks of tall windows dimmed by photovoltaic glass, reducing the massive hall to darkness and shadows. This was not a room for daylight- like all of the Emperor's chambers it thrived in darkness, the tall stretch of double-storey walls inset with two columned walkways, stucco plaster pigmented a rich, radiant claret red, the arched and vaulted ceilings above rendered in relief-carved tracery of glowing golds. Its heavy, stately grandeur engulfed all who entered, and it was not without consideration that Palpatine had chosen it.

The substantial carved doors slid aside and Mara Jade whispered into the hall, her footfalls inaudible though her sense in the Force sounded a heavy tone of unease.

His back still to her, gazing out through the muted windows, Palpatine's thin lips pulled to a malicious smile at the game ahead. He waited until she was close, neither turning nor acknowledging her reverential bow, leaving her to stand in uneasy attendance…

When he finally spoke he turned his head just slightly, his face still hidden within the heavy cowl of his raven cloak, "I am… confused. Chancellor Amedda tells me that my Jedi has left for Mosiin… yet _you_ are still here."

The tension in Jade's voice as she spoke was palpable, "The Heir… forbade me to attend."

"Forbade you? You act under _my_ decree, lest you forget, Emperor's Hand. I ordered you to attend him. He is now without a bodyguard… or a watcher."

Jade hesitated long seconds, and he knew she was gathering her nerve where normally she would have spoken without pause. "I apologise, master… but he wouldn't allow me to board- my rank isn't equal to his…"

"Why?"

She wavered, unsure "… master?"

"Why would he not allow you to board- what had you done?"

"We… argued. He told me I was to stay here to consider m…"

"About what?"

.

Mara paused, uncertain; had Palpatine already spoken to Luke? Oh, she could so easily destroy everything without whispering a word about his defiance.

No; Luke had played this game too often with the Emperor. If he'd already been quizzed and been forced to give an account, Luke would have made damn sure Mara knew every point. She'd seen him do it with scrupulous attention to detail so often over even the most minor matters in the past – and that must be a fraction of the truth, if he had hidden his meetings with his father for so long. No- this was something else…

The Emperor turned his head a little more, his tone a shade more indulgent; "A… personal quarrel perhaps?"

The breath went Mara Mara's lungs in a silent rush.

.

Palpatine turned, the slightest of smiles on bloodless lips. "Or did you think that I was unaware?"

He set forward, one arm out beside him to usher Jade along as he walked the length of the massive, imposing room. "I'm disappointed, my child; I thought you knew me better than that."

Head in a spin, she allowed herself to be guided forward, no words coming to her lips, no thoughts to her mind such was her alarm.

He shepherded her from the soulless grandeur of the cavernous space to a small waiting room, its proportions of a more comforting scale, more fitting to his line of attack, decided now. From what little they had spoken - from the lack of readable information through the Force when he had asked her directly about the argument - he knew she was hiding something. He could force her to tell him as he had originally intended, could terrorize and intimidate her or simply break the barriers she had placed and take the information by dint of relative strength… but this was so much better.

_He_ owned his Wolf - and nobody else. Skywalker had learned his lessons and trusted very few, so the opportunities to clarify this fact were far between these days, but occasionally it was still possible to expose for Skywalker the limits of supposed fidelity in those about him, to underline that fact.

Mara Jade was _his_ player; she would ultimately do whatever the Emperor demanded of her… he had held her too long for Skywalker to even think he might be able to change that. He _allowed_ his Jedi this indiscretion, but it was on the Emperor's terms, not Skywalker's - and it was time to remind him of that. "Everything that transpires here is according to _my_ will. _My_ intent. You know that. You are with my Jedi by _my_ consent… and you will remain so by my good grace."

He paused, then reached out to place one pale hand to her face and lift her chin, "But don't fret, child; I have every faith in you- you would never disappoint."

Jade looked to her master, emerald-green eyes anxious and apprehensive, and he smiled into that panicked face, arranging an expression of gracious indulgence about his own features, knowing that Mara would realize it only skin-deep. She knew her master well; there was no need for open threats- they were implicit here.

He had already seen their argument on the landing platform of course; had taken the trouble to have the images sent to him following a report by one of the Palace Guards. It was a tiny fragment, Skywalker shrewd enough to quickly move Jade to a point behind the shuttle where they were hidden from the lens, their words inaudible above multiple engines.

Normally Palpatine would have ignored it; dismissed it out of hand as two fiery temperaments squaring off, as they had so often in the past… but today, so soon after the unsettling disturbance in the Force so clearly centred here in the Palace, everything was of interest.

_Everything_ required further scrutiny.

This was not what it seemed- that much had been clear the moment she entered the Stateroom. Something had changed… and now everything else was shifting about it…

What exactly had changed the Force would not reveal, defying any scrutiny. But in Palpatine's experience events often became more difficult to see or predict according to their proximity to a trained Force-sensitive…

There were only three of those left in existence. If Palpatine were changing the Fates by his own actions then he would surely know… which left two others, both of whom had done something unexpected today, Vader in trying to delay his intended return to the Palace and Skywalker in leaving Jade behind when he set out to Mosiin.

Of the two, Palpatine knew who was capable of inflicting the most damage; like Jade, he held Vader completely… which left just one.

Skywalker himself would be a closed book even if he were here - he'd learned his lessons - but Jade… well, Palpatine had always told the boy that she was his weakness.

So he smiled at the woman now, dressing his question to hide its intent and play to her insecurity. "We do not speak enough of your new role, my dear. Perhaps we should remedy that."

"I…" she stumbled over her reply, wordless before the one person who could reduce her to such, lost as to how to react.

Not that it mattered; the Emperor spoke on regardless, "You of course appreciate how important such a role is- how strategically significant. You were among the very first I considered. Only those in whom I held absolute faith could be contemplated for such a role."

'_Among _the first'; she was sharp enough to hear the threat.

He bared ruined teeth in an empty smile, "And I know that you would never withhold information from me - cause me to question that faith. Make me re-evaluate that privileged position."

She lifted her eyes to him, and still he smiled indulgently, as if explaining the obvious; "You are consort to The Heir, child; a position of great… responsibility. This is the first time that I have ever asked you to prove your suitability- your loyalty. Don't make me doubt you now."

Again that grin, like a garral stalking prey; all cold eyes and sharp teeth. "You, my dear, understand the potential offered - and the terms inherent. I give him everything- more than any, ever… he has simply to take it. To reach out his hand and take it. And I expect you to aid him in that; in explaining to him the opportunity he has… and in illustrating to him the futility - and the danger - of defiance."

She shook her head fervently, "He's not…"

"Think very carefully before you answer, child." he interrupted, clipped voice silencing her instantly, "As I said; yours is a _privileged_ position."

She hesitated momentarily, "He's not at fault."

Her first slip; he wasn't _at fault_ – not he'd done nothing wrong. Palpatine smiled benignly, head to one side, "I believe you."

She fell to subdued silence, reluctant to betray him directly and Palpatine considered, caught up in the game now… perhaps he could offer her a pretext; a way to tell the truth but pass the burden.

"I… worry for him, child. I am concerned that he is… at risk from outside influences- that another has found a vulnerability and seeks to lead him astray. I hoped your closeness would give you the opportunity to identify such lapses."

She glanced down too quickly, eyes anywhere but at her master's, and Palpatine smiled into that guilt-ridden evasion. Before anyone else she was unassailable, unshakeably cool under fire. Before Palpatine and a lifetime of grooming, each manipulation carefully constructed one upon the other, she was tractable and compliant- though her fear was for another rather than herself, that much was clear. Which was what made it so wonderfully easy to exploit.

"I am not blind child; I know the games he plays- in fact I expect no less from him, you know that. On the contrary, it is his strength of spirit which I value. But there are times when that resolve is… misdirected. And then I rely on the counsel of those whom I have placed about him for clarification."

The slightest of frowns crossed her smooth brow, uncertainty played out in her face as Palpatine continued his subtly-insistent coercion. "I know that you wish only to protect him- that is why I allow you close to him."

She glanced up at that, fresh insecurity worrying her thoughts, and he softened his voice further.

"This need go no further, Mara. I have no intention of punishing him for something if I do not believe he is at fault. It is enough to know. By knowing, I may disperse this problem before it requires stronger action. To tell me now can only help him…"

"… he trusts me…"

"And he is correct to do so, because you will do what is right for him." Palpatine underlined, knowing how close to the edge she was, savouring the game, already looking forward to the moment when he could reveal to Skywalker that his greatest weakness had betrayed him with no more encouragement than a few coercive words.

"It will be our secret Mara; nobody else need know - what you say here will never go beyond these walls. In truth, you will be helping him, as you will be helping me. You will be fulfilling your obligations to both- I know that is what you want." He paused, taking the chance, pushing the probability. "I already know that there is something wrong. I don't wish to take him to the cells; don't make me do that."

.

Mara glanced up at this, aware of the gravity of that threat, remembering Luke's words; that he absolutely wouldn't be taken again. And Palpatine already knew- he already knew something was wrong. Would it be so terrible to tell him the facts? Surely her master was right; she would be helping Luke, dispersing the situation before it reached critical.

Luke wouldn't back down again; she'd seen that in his eyes, heard it in his tone. He was no longer the tentative innocent at odds with his own conscience. This could so easily escalate…

.

Palpatine leaned closer, tone persuasive, compelling, knowing from long familiarity exactly what she needed to hear, encouraging her hopes and voicing her fears, "I don't believe he is at fault… but until I _know_ otherwise, there is no other way to deal with this problem, you know that. I don't wish to hurt him but it would become a battle of wills as it always does… one which he can only lose. Don't make me put him through that again."

She shook her head, concern obvious. "He won't yield."

Of course he would yield; Palpatine consciously kept his features from hardening, kept the cold amusement from his voice at the knowledge that he would simply break the boy apart a piece at a time until he did. But he nodded just once, tone grave, tinged with reluctant concern, "I know. But you know what I will do - what I have to do. Once we are on that path, I cannot back down."

He hesitated; _just one more push_. "You have the power to stop all that now Mara, before it's begun. You have the power to save him."

"It's not his fault…"

The Emperor nodded benignly, the touch of impatient steel beneath his quiet words unnoticed by Mara. "If there is something you think I should know then you should tell me now…"

She held to hesitant silence, at the very brink…

Perhaps it was time to replace her after all; Skywalker's hold was becoming too great.

"The Force whispers…" he trailed off into silence, intending to allow her own fears to fill the pause but, sensing her apprehension spike and realizing that Skywalker must have mentioned the disturbance, he arranged a contemplative tone to his voice and about his ravaged features. "I sense… a shift; a change- and I do not wish it to be between myself and my Jedi. I have invested five onerous years in establishing our collaboration- in ensuring his investment here. Left to his own devices he would have deserted us long ago… returned to his precious rebellion- or simply disappeared. My methods seem harsh but it is _I_ who have held him here; my will, nothing else. Remember that."

He stepped forward, grating voice lowered to a wheedling tone, "You must trust my judgement child…"

"I do master- I always have."

"I fear that without intervention this situation may escalate beyond any retrieval - I fear we may both lose him…"

Panic lit her eyes… and he knew that he had her-

.

"………. Vader." she said, voice a breathless whisper.

"Vader?"

"He's been speaking with Vader; meeting with him. Vader's manipulating him, trying to use Luke to accomplish what he can't; push him to disobey…" She absolutely believed this; Luke wouldn't do more, not of his own choice. He was being manipulated; he _was_. "Luke just… wanted to speak to his father. He didn't intend any greater defiance."

"No... he wouldn't…." Palpatine shook his head, tone darkening. After all he had done, surely the boy knew there were some laws _never_ to be disobeyed; and why would he choose to anyway? He hated his father. Palpatine had invested long hours of scheming to ensure that, to be sure that when he'd first faced his father as a Sith, the boy would want only to kill him

And he had; Skywalker almost had killed Vader when they duelled- in fact Palpatine had thought he would, had been sure that the boy had entered into that duel with his own agenda regardless of Palpatine's order. That had been the test; the ultimate confirmation of Palpatine's control over the boy even in the most dire of circumstances; the ability to make him pull back in the heat of battle.

"…The duel- he tried to kill Vader-"

Mara's eyes turned down, words almost lost in shallow breaths, "But he couldn't."

"He couldn't…" and finally Palpatine understood; saw with crystal clarity all that had transpired… He had intended to disobey- to kill Vader anyway… but _he_ _couldn't_.

And if, in the event, _he_ couldn't do it… then the choice had been his, not Palpatine's.

But he'd allowed Palpatine to believe that he had controlled his Jedi- _used_ Palpatine's conviction that he'd contained Luke to his own advantage.

As, apparently, had his father.

The tie that Palpatine had thought irrevocably broken was evidently still intact. They hadn't moved against him, so the boy was still wary of his father, the bond tattered and torn- but there nonetheless.

And that was too much to tolerate.

_Everything_ that Palpatine had built since had been dependent on that one fact; on his ability to control the boy in the heat of unreserved rage or cold, calculating fury.

Control was everything- and Palpatine had been certain that he had held it unconditionally… but he'd been deceived, _intentionally_ deceived time and again by the boy… Which meant that he had lied… lied to Palpatine's face. Deliberately and repeatedly in order to conceal his treachery and maintain his deception.

Outrage burned through Palpatine at the boy's brazen treachery. Indignation that he had believed he could disguise such a damning deceit, fury at the extent and duration that he had done so.

"Insolent, intractable, scheming creature…" There could only be one punishment for this- for putting another before his Master. He had always told his Jedi that if he did not resolve his own weaknesses, then Palpatine would do it for him.

Mara hesitated, "You said.."

Palpatine tensed as he turned on her and she flinched back instantly… he paused-

Yes, he had intended to lash out at her- but then this link would be lost.

"That was your argument on the landing platform today." he observed, grating voice hard and calculating now, bitter fury already cooling to reserved, hostile vehemence.

"I told him to stop." she said, voice earnest- pleading almost.

So he had known within hours of Jade finding out. A valuable arrangement then, one that should perhaps be maintained- for now. Her replacement was not yet entirely established, and he had not gained all he wanted from their association yet.

He turned cold eyes to her, voice dismissive, "You may go, Jade."  
.

Mara hesitated, terrified at the change that had overcome her master but needing to know, driven by something greater than fear, "You won't…"

"_I said you are dismissed_."

There was a power to it which bore no refusal, and she turned and almost ran from the room, her eyes blurring.

.

.

.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

.

.

A Lambda-class shuttle with Palace markings came to a slow descent on the roof below, Mara watching blankly from the window of her apartments to the rear of the North Tower. For long seconds she stared without really seeing, worried thoughts elsewhere, then the escort flew by overhead and she realized the shuttle designation and leaned forward, heart in her throat…

Vader strode smoothly forward from the shuttle toward the South Tower entrance, unaware of her eyes on him, and Mara felt the air go from her lungs in a rush.

Vader! Palpatine had summoned Vader to the Palace… her mind raced, searching to fill in the blanks; Vader had agreed to Reece that he would remain at Tingarn tonight, which meant that he must have been summoned back here by Palpatine personally. Only the Emperor's summons would have changed his plans.

Would he hold Vader accountable- make him answer all accusations? He knew that he had far greater control over Vader than Luke; expected more of him- would that be enough to stay his hand?

She saw again the look in her master's eyes when she'd told him the truth and shook her head imperceptibly; no. Not this time. She glanced again the the comlink on the table nearby. She'd picked it up intending to contact Luke a dozen times now… more. But she always replaced it unused. She turned, resisting the urge to pace up and down, aware that she had committed an irreversible act, hoping desperately that she had done the right thing.

She had potentially betrayed Luke to the Emperor- _if_ he chose to act on her information.

Court had been deferred and its members dismissed- for days, the Emperor had indicated, rumours already circulating. Hardly the act of someone intending to disperse the situation.

Mara shook her head, hand to her mouth; of course he'd act on it, why had she believed otherwise? What had she been thinking- how could she have been so easily led?

Because she was trying to help him! Trying to diffuse the disaster. How could it have got this far… how could the absence of one stupid, insignificant comlink have escalated this fast? And there was no way to hide her part in this; if Palpatine punished Vader… whilst Mara didn't give a damn for the man who had dragged his own son to near-destruction to feed his own political ambitions, she doubted that Luke would share her low opinion, considering what he was risking simply to speak to him.

How could he have thought to cross Palpatine?! How could…

"_Don't cross me…" _Where had she heard that before?  
Her mind was drawn to that night on the Patriot, horrified at the realisation… when they'd been curled about each-other in the safe cloak of a distant night; _"Don't cross me…" _Luke had whispered those words to her with such feeling. She'd opened her mouth to deny it and Luke had stopped her; didn't want the empty words.

He'd known even then; _known_ that he was laid beside his eventual betrayer.

She felt physically sick- she was trembling.

The situation could cascade so easily; escalate out of all control- she knew that. Luke had _said_ that to her!

He wouldn't back down this time…

But how could she blame the Emperor for acting on the information she'd given him? What alternative did he have? He _had_ to act on it, she knew that. She'd known that all along; she'd held her silence at Luke's revelation about the duel with his father for so long because she _knew_ that if she told Palpatine, it would destroy everything-

Destroy Luke.

But Palpatine said he wouldn't- he'd said this would be their secret, that to know was enough. He'd _promised_ he wouldn't act. He'd _promised _her…

Yet already Court was dismissed, the levels about the Throne Room empty, and Mara's stomach was tightening into an icy knot which left her cold and breathless, arms wrapped about herself.

One impulsive moment of blind trust… it had always been so easy before to trust him. Perhaps she'd never had anything she feared to lose.

.

.

.

Palpatine stood in silence in the small anteroom for a long time considering, eyes narrowed, lips clenched to a thin line.

How credulous he'd been to trust his Wolf- how gullible.

How lenient for so long that the boy thought he could get away with this. How remiss.

He knew what the boy was; what he was capable of… hadn't he sworn that he would always watch his Wolf closely- that any dissent would be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with?

But he had- he always had.

The Sith narrowed his eyes, remembering again the vision which had haunted him for two long decades; of the wolf in the darkness, the warning within; _pull the leash too tight and it will bite. _

He'd seen the vision again, at dawn. Seen the feral wolf; seen the man stand as the dark sable cloak fell away. He closed his eyes and brought a pallid hand to cover them, replaying the vision with perfect clarity, searching for knowledge…

_...  
... ... ... ... ..._

_The wolf in the twilight; the feral creature which whispered through the darkness, at one with the night, wild and capricious- then in a flurry of shadows it was gone and he stared at the empty stillness, waiting…_

_He turned, uncertain, the silence profound.  
__Knelt before him in mute stillness was his Jedi, eyes turned down, a dark heavy cloak of dense, black fur draped about him, absorbing all light._

_The wolf in the night…  
__Pull the leash too tight and he will bite._

_His Jedi stood, the confining sable cloak he wore slipping from his shoulders as he wordlessly held out his hand, and once again Palpatine's eyes were drawn inexorably down to the lightsaber there, smeared scarlet red, the colour of anger and passion and betrayal…_

_Vader's lightsaber._

Take it_.  
__His Jedi said, though his lips did not move._

_Palpatine looked again to the lightsaber, perfect scarlet streams seeping over the inactive hilt, running in ruby rivulets, dripping in dark drops from his Jedi's fingers to pool on the floor at Palpatine's feet, soaking a stain into the trailing hem of his cloak...  
__He looked back to the boy's eyes, the perfect blue of ice in darkness…  
__His Wolf remained silent and impassive but something… something had changed in those eyes- and for a broken heartbeat that perfect glacial blue glowed with the finest sliver of red-tinged ochre._

_Something tugged at Palpatine's mind as never before, making his heart skip a beat in trepidation- in…fear.  
__His Wolf blinked slowly and the momentary shift was gone, cool eyes leading Palpatine's gaze back to the saber he still held out.  
_Take it…or it will kill you.

_Palpatine looked back to the saber hilt,  
_"Vader?"

_His Wolf said nothing, merely held out the blood-wet saber, the pool of dripping scarlet beneath it spreading unevenly, fed by a trailing, glutinous trickle of blood which still oozed unevenly down the metal hilt.  
__Liquid life, rich and viscous.  
__Liquid death, weeping ruby tears.  
__Death…The lightsaber was not activated, but he could hear the bass hum of non-existent blades, the hiss of superheated light._

_Death…_

... ... ... ... ...  
...

Palpatine's eyes flashed open in denial, in fury, a snarl of frustration curling his lip. Would he yet have to kill the boy? Would that alone break the vision?

Or was Vader the threat – had he always been the threat? Surely not; his had been a slow conversion, a gradual attrition from youth to adulthood. Years of investment, time-consuming but predictable- _guaranteed_; a fixed, clear-cut path.

After five long years, why was the boy so different? What reserve did he tap into that his father could not, what had reduced and what had redoubled- and how? His father was Palpatine's; in some basic, elemental way he had been his from the first moment their eyes had met. What had changed in the space of one generation…..

Abruptly Palpatine remembered the ring; his _mother's_ ring… his mother… the one uncontrolled variable. Still reaching out from the grave to harry him, it seemed.

And another thought occurred at that; he remembered challenging his Jedi at the time he found the ring. Skywalker had come after it the moment Palpatine had taken it… because he'd needed to disperse that suspicion before Palpatine thought too long on it; where he'd gotten the ring from, why his father would possibly have given such a thing up…

Hadn't Skywalker lied to him then? Looked him in the eye and _lied_, every answer calculated to remove blame and distance connection… to protect his _father_. Not himself, Palpatine realized; if he'd wanted to do that, he wouldn't have come, wouldn't have faced his Master- wouldn't have lied.

His father…. Palpatine thought again of the vision; of the warning within. Of a way to change the vision without losing his Wolf.

… Perhaps he had been using the wrong chastisement-

.

Yes- he knew now what to do. His first instinct had been correct; there was only one punishment for this, for placing another before his Master's wishes.. Palpatine had warned the boy time and again that if he did not resolve his own weaknesses then his Master would surely do it for him…

It was time to deliver on those words.

.

.

.

Luke received the comm late afternoon, the Communications Officer at Mosiin Barracks handing his own comlink over to The Heir. Luke took two quick paces back, pausing as the officers about him politely did the same to give him some privacy, "Yes?"

"Good afternoon, Sir. Forgive the intrusion."

Luke frowned at Reece's voice; those last words were a coded message to find a safe spot before continuing.

He took a further two paces back, but was well aware that the comlink wasn't encoded and the room could easily be bugged. "No- that's alright." _'No'_, was the message.

Reece hesitated, mind clearly racing to supply enough facts that Luke understood his message without it causing suspicion, "I received the ordnance and personnel authorisations you sent- they're being dealt with now. Fortunately Lord Vader is now at the Palace, so I may present the personnel reassignments to him in person if you wish, which will mean they may well be in effect by tomorrow. I… wished to keep you abreast of the schedule change this will incur."

Luke hesitated; his father had returned to the Palace- why? Reece had also covertly offered to go and see Vader to chase down the change in plans…

No; his father had a secure, coded channel frequency to speak with Luke, and Karrde's protégé slicer Ghent was already here at Mosiin Barracks, waiting to install a new cipher onto Luke's automemo; Ghent could easily arrange for a little scrambling of standard surveillance here, guaranteeing Luke a clean room for a conversation with his father to find out what had happened.

"I'll be free in an hour- I'll comm you then on my automemo channel so I can go over the details."

As he spoke, Luke reached out into the Force, seeking reassurance…

.

And the comlink fell Reece his hand, Reece's reply unheeded-

.

Luke turned and ran, taking the stairs within the base four at a time, powering up the three flights to the landing field, startled officers staring after him in surprise.

He reached the ships at a dead-run. All of the 701st I-TIE's were routinely kept on standby ready for liftoff, and he jumped from six paces away, landing in the open cockpit of the nearest, locking down the canopy without helmet or flightsuit as he brought the engines to full.

The call from Flight Control crackled into the cockpit speakers, pilots and ground crew coming out from the ready-rooms to see what the commotion was about, "Echo zero-three, you're attempting an unauthorised takeoff. Power down you engines and identify yourself and your clearance details…"

"Release the ship!" Luke yelled into the pickup, the heavy docking clamp holding the I-TIE down as it bobbed unevenly against the pull, engines screaming.

"Echo Zero-three, I repeat, you are…"

Luke batted the comm closed and reached out with the Force at the same instant, and the heavy bulk of the organic steel docking clamp dragged back, splitting across it's width with a rending shriek, unfurling from the I-TIE's landing gear like a living thing, a wide, blinding splash of sparks thrown about it, ground crew backing up, hands out before them.

In the same second, the engines powered up to full, the fighter righting itself for a split second before batting forward, careening wildly side to side as it burst skyward, a speck in the distance before anybody had even thought to react.

.


	32. Chapter 32

Vader strode evenly through the Palace to the Council Chambers, summoned there by his Master.

Here in the Palace the sense of portent in the Force was more defined; more potent. He'd sensed it immediately upon arrival, so hadn't been surprised by the summons, knowing that Palpatine would wish to discus the disturbance. Did he know its locus was here, in the Palace? Surely so. Perhaps he had greater insight as to its cause, for Vader saw nothing save the vague sense of a juncture- a convergence… a defining moment.

He knew now why Luke had urged him to stay away... could sense the power which crackled down the shadowed halls like a charge in the air, like the heavy, static stillness before a storm. Yet he'd returned anyway, the moment his Master had summoned him- had made no attempt to circumvent the command despite Luke's warning.

He gave his son too little credit, even when he knew in truth. The boy hid it well, particularly in the presence of their Master, but Vader had a closer connection than Palpatine could ever achieve. He _knew_ the truth, the extent of his son's power - even if he didn't understand why the boy held it in check- what stayed his hand before the Emperor's patent manipulations, Luke alternating without reason between impassive, accepting indifference and stubborn, confrontational antagonism when the mood took him.

Because something did hold him in check. If the power had been Vader's he would have turned it on Palpatine long ago, whatever the perceived collateral damage.

No hesitation, no doubts.

But then the power had been his… once. For all the good it had done him- or Padmé.

He'd searched for the knowledge to save her, had surrendered everything for the opportunity to gain it-

No; somehow being here, today, in the midst of this potent power… this was the moment for absolute truth, even to himself. He had hidden behind easy justifications for too long.

Because even this, at its most basic level, was a lie.

He'd learnt the harshest lesson of all - and he'd learned it to Padmé's cost. Ultimately, she'd paid the price for his ambitions and his impatience.

He'd _wanted_ power- to save Padmé yes, but for its own sake too. Power to rise above his peers; easy, quick power, because he thought he _deserved_ it. So he'd taken what Palpatine had offered, knowing full well what he was doing.

That fateful moment on Coruscant- the decision made in haste to save Palpatine at the cost of Master Windu's life- yes, it had been in the heat of the moment, with so many forces in play… but he could have backed down so many times in the following days. Could have admitted the truth, aided his fellow Jedi; acknowledged his momentary fall and faced the consequences. It was not, after all, he who had killed Master Windu.

Or he could have confessed to Padmé- could have renounced the Jedi Order and hidden away among the nameless masses on some anonymous Rim planet. A quiet, humble life with his wife and son.

He could have refused to lead the clones into the Jedi Temple… could have warned those he'd trained beside and fought beside, no matter however covertly.

Could have listened to Obi-Wan on Mustafar.

But he'd wanted power… and he'd gained it; incredible, enervating, immense power. And foolishly, he'd thought the power was real, that it would give him the strength he craved, the connection and the capability he needed to bring destiny beneath his heel- Padmé's and his own.

But every increment it gave in those dark days, it had taken something in return…

And he'd been too wrapped up to see it; to realise the truth about this empty power. How it twisted and tainted all that it touched. If he'd had the strength- the integrity- to look beyond the obvious, perhaps she would still…

Because he hadn't understood- hadn't understood that power and strength were two very different things. True power- _true strength_- would have been the strength to step back.

And in that moment, it had failed him… he had failed himself.

Not Obi-Wan, or Padmé or the Jedi Council. _He_ had failed. Had damned himself by his own actions.

The fault was his…

And now - now his son gave him the chance of redemption, if only in some small part, for all that he had done… Vader frowned beneath his mask; but was he throwing that away too, just as he had done with Padmé? He wasn't blind to the fact that he was using his own son- using Luke to accomplish what he could not; the deposing of Palpatine.  
Had he learned nothing… was he once again prepared to exchange _everything_ for the opportunity to excel. Wasn't he _still_ prepared to pay any price to gain power?

But the power was no longer for himself, so surely this was different…

Or was it at all? The boy didn't want this; he had made that abundantly clear. Yet still Vader pushed onwards, fulfilling his own desires and ambitions at the cost of those he valued most.

And every time he was rebuffed or refused he still let loose that explosive, uncontrollable temper- the same temper that made him turn on the Tuskens so long ago; the same blind rage that made him turn on Padmé. The same temper that now made him turn on his son at the slightest provocation, argument after argument, unable to back down despite everything he claimed to comprehend.

And now he saw it in Luke; when he held firm before those outbursts, undaunted. When he stood unyielding against Palpatine just as he did with his father… Tempered though; contained and directed in a way that Anakin never could. As Vader had once said to his son, Luke was equal parts Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Naberrie.

What would Padmé have said had she been here now; seen what was happening to her son. What Vader had allowed to happen… what he had _instigated_. A wave of guilt washed through him at that - at what he was doing to his son… what he was making him become - the path he was _knowingly_ locking the boy in to.

And yet… his son's destiny shouldn't be his own bleak existence; the boy still embodied the power Vader had long since lost. He had a chance to step beyond his father's fate… if only he would reach out and take it.

If only he would challenge Palpatine.

How could he _not_ want such power- complete dominion; over the Force, the Empire… everything. The galaxy turning on his decree. Vader had come so close… _so close_ to that power- but the Fates had stolen it away and twisted the knife by leaving him alive to serve the one who gained it.

But his son - his son could take that power and make it his own.

If only he would challenge Palpatine.

Yet he remained in the Emperor's shadow, as discontented and as disillusioned and resentful as Vader was, poisoned by Palpatine's manipulations when he could so easily step beyond them.

If Vader but knew the reason he held back… whatever it was, he would correct it. Give Luke the chance at dominion that he had never had; ascendancy. He owed the boy that. He had placed him on this path, had locked him into this fate. If he could only discover what held him in check he would eradicate it.

Whatever the cost, he would remove it.

He owed the boy that… for himself _and_ for Padmé.

.

.

.

Palpatine stood to the far side of the long, empty Reception Hall in his Council Chambers, waiting… considering;

Was this the right path?

He remembered again the vision- he had seen it so many times now that it was etched into his mind. For two decades he had seen the wolf in the darkness; fleeting glimpses, hidden in the shadows; pale, feral eyes in cold moonlight...

Then eight years ago the vision had shifted; the Death Star had been destroyed and for the first time the shadow in the darkness had come closer… closer every year as the facts of why fell so perfectly at his feet, until when he turned, it was there beside him, kneeling silent and still. only it was no longer the wolf; it was the boy whose very existence he had been unaware of; Skywalker. _Palpatine's wolf._

And then the vision changed; subtly every time, the smallest details, the finest increments, some points fluid, others fixed.

Always, his wolf stood and held out his hand - and _always_ the same thing was in it; a lightsaber. Vader's lightsaber.

And here subtle variations whispered – for years the boy had said just two words to his Master; _"Take it."_

But as time passed he had said more… _"Take it- or it will kill you."_

Undoubtedly the vision had changed as events had done likewise.

Mara's revelation that Vader had been in contact with Skywalker was unexpected… and unwelcome. Vader had always held the ambition to rule, Palpatine knew that. But his duel with Kenobi on Mustafar had ensured that he never had the power to back up his desire, and Palpatine's complete control, instilled in childhood, had guaranteed that he never had the resolve.

Unlike his son. Skywalker had the ability and the audacity to challenge Palpatine, yet not the desire. The boy despised the Empire and all it stood for, Palpatine knew that. He remained only because the Emperor had ensured that he detested the Rebellion with equal zeal and because Palpatine had invested great time and effort in taming his wolf, instilling in it the knowledge that to leave would bring down his Master's wrath on all about him… and by ensuring that his wolf had quite simply no-where else to go.

But combine those two spirits, one with the desire but not the ability and one with the ability but not the desire… and together they could form a real threat-

And that was unacceptable.

He simply couldn't afford to keep them both any longer- particularly with the boy's burgeoning power.

Of course, Palpatine knew that his work with Skywalker wasn't finished yet, though he had already devoted long years to creating his perfect Sith advocate - as he had done with the boy's father until Kenobi had robbed him of his new apprentice. Or rather, of the apprentice Palpatine had _anticipated_… by limiting Anakin's contact with the Force.

Strange that Palpatine hadn't known that when he had poured those years of careful manipulation into Anakin- hadn't _predicted_ Kenobi.

But then, one's ability to read the future was often clouded by the presence of even a single Jedi; they were, by their very nature, facilitators of change… and sometimes the Force flowed to its own ends…

Yet in the final analysis it had been for the best, though Palpatine wouldn't have believed it at the time- so perhaps the loss of Anakin had indeed been guided by the Force. Because Palpatine still had his Empire- and now he had Anakin's son, who was all that Anakin would have been and more, because he was a greater challenge to control; to bring to heel.

And therein lay the attraction.

Recognizing with Anakin that this line deserved a more measured, less hasty initiation, Palpatine had used whatever was available to bring his plans to fruition. In his Sith alter-ego of Darth Sidious, Palpatine's actions were carefully measured to manipulate Anakin over an extended time period. Now it was Vader, whose actions - his very presence - were always so easy to exploit when moulding Skywalker.

And patience, of course. Like a piece of art, the joy was equal parts creation, appreciation and ownership.

And in the meantime, Skywalker was now stable enough to take his rightful place. He knew the boy now; felt confident that he could accurately predict his reaction, which would be extreme, but manageable. As with all his apprentices, the art was part knowing when to make the decisive moves, and part perceiving what those moves should be.

"_Take it" _His Wolf had said time and again of Vader's saber;_ "Take it or it will kill you."_

.

As Amedda opened the tall doors at the far side of the expansive room to announce Lord Vader's arrival, Palpatine searched his soul for any trace of regret, but found none. Nor did he derive any excitement from the knowledge of the upcoming duel; not even satisfaction at being able to move so decisively against one who had betrayed him…

Instead, he found his whole mind given over to eager anticipation of the manipulations required to contain his new Sith on his return…

.

.

Vader strode confidently forward as the heavy door swung closed behind him, the Emperor awaiting him at the far side of the sombre hall, his back to the room, not turning to acknowledge his acolyte as Vader stepped down into a low bow. Resolutely setting aside all personal thoughts and sentiments to focus his attention on the present situation, Vader paused on bended knee for long seconds…

And felt something in that moment- a susurration that buzzed through his senses in the charged atmosphere; something unsettling in the Emperor's stillness.

"Have you spoken with your son today?" Palpatine asked absently without turning away from the tall slim windows.

Vader frowned slightly, the reaction concealed by the mask he had hidden behind for so long. It was a strange question… for so many reasons. Palpatine never referred to Luke as Vader's son- not to his face. Nor had he ever asked this directly before… and why ask at all, if he believed he knew Vader's every move?

"No Master." Vader stated simply, rising as he did so. It was, strictly speaking, true.

The Emperor only nodded, his back still to Vader, "He is… difficult to read. To predict. To control."

Vader remained still, uncertain what his Master wanted of him.

The Emperor turned slowly, hands tucked into the voluminous sleeves of his gown, "But I think that the error is partly mine. You see, he cannot be controlled too closely; pull the leash too tight and he begins to resist. Of course some things can only be learned with hindsight, but I now believe… I believe in order to control him one must instead control his surroundings; his connections. My error was in not realising that sooner- but knowing it now, I will correct it."

Vader was still, the uneasy twist of menace that had coiled about him now shivering up his spine, tensing muscles.

Silence hung expectant in the still air as the Emperor paused, pale, ochre eyes lost in consideration.

"Do you remember the Prophesy, my friend- The Son of Suns?" Palpatine set his head to one side in contemplation, "Prophesies and visions are such vague things; they have so many interpretations."

He finally turned to Vader, yellow eyes aglow, "Do you feel you have balanced the Force? You certainly evened the score; created symmetry- in retrospect only four of us remained for a long time; two Jedi and two Sith…"

"The Force was in balance- it had not been so for many decades." Vader said neutrally, uncertain of his Master's itinerary.

"Yes…" Palpatine smiled at Vader's interpretation; he had always been so literal, content never to look beyond the obvious. "But I always believed the Prophesy was something more - it stood for so long; surely it could not be as simple as that."

Palpatine paused, eyes hooded beneath that heavy, disfigured brow as he considered, "_It is shadows whose edge define the light, at the brink of the dawn and the Darkness_." He quoted from the prophesy, "Light and darkness… one cannot exist without the other. Light, by its very existence, creates shadows, and it is darkness which defines the existence of light. And yet we separate them so completely… believe them incompatible … irreconcilable. Perhaps they were…"

The realisation of what Palpatine was suggesting came to Vader in a burst of comprehension- of Luke, of how much remained carefully hidden. Of his nebulous, indefinable sense within the Force - of the moment long ago in the Medicentre when, racked with pain and appallingly injured, his son had reached unthinkingly into the Force for healing- and accomplished it.

But Darkness did not heal. Darkness _could not_ heal.

He remembered sensing that fleeting glimpse beneath the boy's shields, that particular mindset; the willingness to merge without loss of self, to surrender without submission into the Force. Darkness never surrendered… so it was not this that the boy had touched, yet… he recalled again that momentary contact, searching to categorise it as it had slipped away, diffuse and veiled.

It was not Light, nor was it Darkness - it was… both and neither, defying classification.

Palpatine had always told Vader that he was _created_ by the Force- brought into existence by it… by the power and the will of Darkness, his Master claimed… so how could Vader's connection be anything more? Intense as it was, how could it be more?

But hadn't Vader said… He'd told the boy so often, yet never listened to his own words- that Luke was the sum of both himself… and Padmé.

And Padmé was nothing but Light…

Could their son contain both aspects of the Force? Was it possible for one being to hold the two in balance?

Had Vader _created_ that which fulfilled the Prophesy - the balance of Light and Darkness…

Palpatine had turned slowly away to stare out across the metropolis once more, that tense stillness cloaking him, true intent hidden beneath darkness and shadows.

"You have served me well, lord Vader…" Palpatine nodded, thin lips pulled back into an empty smile, "But I should have recognised that your work was done the day that your son arrived here. Your usefulness at an end. I should have seen... realised that balance of Light and Darkness which you brought to me is the fulfilment of the Prophesy - ultimate power - because whoever controls it truly commands _all_ aspects of the Force."

The Emperor nodded, speaking as much to himself as to his acolyte, voicing aloud his conclusions, grating tone low and emotionless, "Whoever controls the boy commands everything - elemental power in all its aspects - and I can never truly do that whilst you are alive. He will always look to you, I see that now. And I will correct it."

Vader saw the glint, the slightest reflection of sunlight on metal as Palpatine unfolded his arms, and knew what was in his Master's hand.

But then, hadn't he always known that it would come to this? Only not quite like this. He'd always thought it would be some bitter, incensed fury, some mindless frenzy of rage and wrath which brought him to this point. Not this… this peerless honour, this ultimate accolade - proof undeniable that his son looked to him, respected him… valued him. He himself, not his ability; that was nothing to the boy. And to know this, to know it absolutely, to hear it spoken by one who would never give such recognition lightly, finally gifted Vader the realisation of what that connection meant to him…

Not the awareness of what Luke was; his power or his potential, nor the fulfilment of the Prophesy which Vader had dragged like chains about him his whole life… but realisation that his son _loved_ him- that this bond was so deep that nothing Palpatine ever did could eradicate it; _nothing_. Because it was a _part_ of Luke… as it was a part of Vader.

The knowledge… was like sunlight on bare skin, warming him through to the depths of his soul. And he hadn't felt that for a lifetime.

And now, finally he knew what had held Luke in check… knew why the boy would never take that final step. It wasn't _himself_ his son was protecting - it was _Vader_. Hadn't Luke said as much when he'd been injured - the very first time he'd spoken to his father about ousting Palpatine - hadn't he said even then that if he came to power, it would put him in direct contention with his father.

And his actions with Palpatine; always wavering between uneasy capitulation and stubborn defiance regardless of the consequences, always unstable, always unpredictable. Just enough that Palpatine wouldn't yet risk removing Vader.

Did he know- did the Emperor comprehend just how much sway he held over the boy in Vader?

Because here - here was the answer. To everything. Palpatine had no concept of just how deep the connection between father and son ran- how could he? He knew only lies and manipulation; the concept of sacrifice was beyond him. Selflessness; compassion. For all his reliance on soulless technology to keep him alive, Vader felt in that moment that he had more humanity within him than his Master could ever hope to perceive.

Which was why Palpatine would never realize…

Vader felt some pang of guilt at taking this decision from his son; in knowing that his actions now would force Luke's hand. But whilst he was alive his son will always seek to protect him; by Luke's own choice, he would never come to power whilst Vader was alive.

_Any price_, Vader recalled; _any price to free his son's hands_… they weren't empty words.

This was his chance at reprieve; to atone for his own blind ambition, which had dragged his son centre-stage. It had been Vader's choice to set him on this path… or perhaps it had been Obi-Wan's, for he surely knew that if he trained the boy, then Luke would be instrumental in the turning of the Fates one way or another.

No- it would be so easy to lay the blame elsewhere, as he had done so often in the past. No.

He had chosen this path, for himself and then his son. And it would stop… now.

Beneath his hated mask, within the prison his Master had made for him, Vader smiled- truly smiled- testing old scars which had held him from this for long, dry years.

But today they could not restrain, they could not impede. Today they were nothing at all. Today he smiled, knowing the Emperor could not see.

He sensed a momentary connection; a brushing against his heightened awareness - a silent question from his son, a brief seeking of reassurance, the distance extreme... and for the last time he reached out to the complex interplay of light and darkness that his son embodied. He sent that assurance, a solace, a tranquil serenity that this was the right thing to do; an apology that even in this, he was taking free choice from his son's hands... then he allowed the peaceful, composed calm to flood the boy's panicked realization from his mind, distancing him. Now was not the time for regrets; he was done with them. He'd given them reign for too long and he wouldn't give them this moment. This moment was one of pride; of triumph, of ascendency.

Padmé would be proud of him-

He looked to his Master, and the words came easily. He wouldn't understand, Vader knew, but it didn't matter; _he_ knew of what he spoke… Because now, finally Vader comprehended what Obi-Wan had said to him so long ago-

And now, he offered the same to his own blind aggressor- in neither defence nor intimidation, but with the same dignified, assured composure; that pacific calm within the Force which gifted an absolute knowledge of what his sacrifice could accomplish-

"If you cut me down… you will make me more powerful than you could possibly imagine."

Lightsaber igniting Palpatine turned on him, yellow eyes ablaze, hissing like the serpent he was…

.

.

.

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

.

.

Vader was dead.

Palpatine was unavailable and Court already cancelled, the Council Chambers above and below the Throne Room eerily empty when Mara arrived in the South Tower, deeply disquieted, walking empty halls in hushed apprehension.

Vader was dead… and Mara was inescapably implicated in the death of Luke's father.

Everything was spiralling out of control with terrifying speed.

She'd returned to her quarters, uncertain what to do, when the comm had come in from Reece; that Luke had and sprinted off, taken an I-TIE, answering no hails, his course directly toward the Palace…

Mara broke the tip from the small glass vial and loaded the single dose into the dart, twisting the dart into the barrel, little more than a gas-powered, rifled tube. When she pushed the safety on, her hand was trembling. She tucked the compact gun into her back pocket, telling herself that she was doing this for Luke- that if he came back to face the Emperor now, both parties would be livid. Palpatine would turn on Luke with a vengeance and Luke would goad him on, outraged. Neither would even attempt to contain or restrain themselves.

It could only end one way.

And for what? Vader was dead- nothing Luke did would change that.

But she could stop it escalating- _if_ she stopped Luke before he made it to the Emperor.

She knew that to do this she'd have to incapacitate him… and there was only one reliable way to do that. Her hand moved again to the loaded dart gun and she pulled it free, checking compulsively that the drug was loaded; that the dart was in the chamber, that the chamber was charged with gas, aware that ultimately this would leave him prey to the Emperor's fury for his part in the deceit… but better that than an all-out confrontation.

She was dong this for Luke…

_She was doing this for Luke._

_._

_._

_._

The I-TIE came in hot, batting down like a banshee, slewing across the landing platform as the forward thrusters battled with the antigrav, the canopy blown clear as it skittered to a grating halt, Luke lurching out.

Mara set forward across the landing platform, arms before her, palms up, hoping to calm him, to interject.

Luke shouted from ten steps away, striding forward, "Where is he?!"

Mara shook her head as she walked towards him, unable to do anything but answer, such was the tone in his voice, "He's in the Throne Room. But…"

"Not Palpatine- my father. Where?"

She was shaking her head, distraught, "Luke, listen to me…"

"_WHERE!!"_

Mara shook her head again in mute appeal, reaching out for him as she neared him, but he twisted by without pausing; without even looking, rage rolling from him like a stormfront.

She reached out, grabbing for his arm as he passed and he turned, knocking her free. For a second she thought he would turn away and keep walking; perhaps that was what he'd intended, but his fury burst through and he reached out, hand snatching her throat, dragging her about and powering her backwards until she hit the Tower wall hard enough to see stars.

Still he held tight against her neck, leaning in, eyes wild and furious and desolate, a glowing rim of ochre at the edge of glacial-blue. He pressed in, eyes hardening, Mara's vision tunnelling as she fought for breath.

One hand to his, still tight about her throat, Mara fumbled her free hand to her back pocket, pulling out the small dart gun and pressing it to his neck and just for an instant he froze - then his eyes iced over and he shook his head fractionally, furious at her for this and himself for allowing it; for forgetting one last time where her loyalties lay.

Mara dragged a breath in about his hand, still tight to her throat, remembering when he had made her blaster misfire, "You can't beat it every time Luke- you said yourself if there's sufficient gas in the chamber to ignite…"

She left the rest unsaid, the apology and guilt audible in her broken voice, another breath dragged past his unyielding hand.

"Go ahead Mara- press the trigger." he hissed, "I'd expect no less- not from you."

When she didn't move, remained stock-still, he leaned in further, the hostile resentment of his betrayal clear, "I won't try to stop it. Take a side- make a choice; you seemed to find it pretty easy when you didn't have to look me in the eye."

His free hand shot up, snaking about her wrist- but he didn't twist the gun aside, didn't pull it away. Wouldn't make that choice for her.

"Press the trigger." he goaded in a whisper, eyes afire. "What have you got to lose Mara? You couldn't wound me any more today- you couldn't possibly bring me any lower."

They remained frozen, green eyes locked on fiery blue… and Mara felt her eyes well up with tears, felt them burn down her cheeks-

Her hand fell loose, the dart gun clattering onto the polished stone and for brief seconds his hand closed about her neck, jaw tense, eyes hard…

Then he wrenched away without a word, leaving her alone on the platform, not once looking back as she slid slowly down the wall at her back, gasping for breath.

.

.

.

The walls of the Throne Room were many feet thick, the only natural light in the cavernous four-storey space entering through narrow floor-to-ceiling slits, barely windows, to either side of the dais. Now, with the fiery light of the setting sun, they cast long, blood-red blades across the polished floor to either side of the throne, tracing broken lines across the first of the massive fluted columns set the length of the long hall. Far above, almost at the level of the glowing golden mosaics in the vaulted ceiling, a small, circular window cast a hazy pool of golden-red light to one side of the throne, already in darkness.

Stood to the rear of the raised dais, Palpatine had watched, transfixed, the slow progress of this scarlet disk across the dais as the sun had set, its course almost intersecting now with the pale polished marble of the wide circle set into the floor of the Throne Room, half to the front edge of the raised dais, the other half set into the Throne Room floor beyond, together describing a perfect circle.

As they neared, his focus changed from the ruby reflection to the complex marble inlay of the circle, a dark, dull scarlet at its edges. It had once graced the floor of the Jedi Council Chamber; it never failed to amuse him that it was now here, beneath his throne, all who approached him kneeling on it...

.

When he heard the commotion in the wide hall outside the Throne Room the Emperor didn't look, instead turning away to gaze out through narrow slit-windows and across the metropolis.

There were eight Royal Guard at the door and he'd given orders that he wasn't to be disturbed - the only way Skywalker could enter was by going through them and furious as he was, Palpatine doubted that he would choose to take them down. Or if he did, it would place him already in the wrong. So the game began-

There was a single burst of blaster fire, the ricochet loud against the reinforced doors - then silence…..

.

The massive double doors to the Throne Room burst open, rebounding on their hinges, slamming shut with a resounding boom which made the heavy inlaid metal screens about the walls tremor on their slides.

Palpatine remained still, stood to the rear of the dais in the deserted, shadowed hall, the bass sound reverberating about the grand space before the room fell back to heavy, hushed stillness.

Luke paced forward in grim silence, striding onto the dais without bowing or speaking, his breath already heavy from the clash with the Red Guard.

Palpatine did not move from the window or turn to face the boy as he came to a stop, offering no reprimand at the breach of protocol inherent in simply stepping onto the dais; to do so without the express permission of the Emperor was strictly forbidden, but then the boy knew this well so it had been a conscious decision on his part.

"What do you want?" Palpatine eventually asked, voice curt and hard.

"To end this."

"Go back to your quarters." The Sith grated, dismissive voice broaching no argument, "I will deal with this breach of trust tomorrow."

Something clattered to a halt on the dais floor beside him, catching the fading light in a bright flash. Palpatine turned just slightly, the movement slow and studied… to look at Skywalker's lightsaber on the floor by his feet…

He turned slowly away again without comment.

"Pick it up." Luke growled, stepping closer.

Palpatine finally looked to his Jedi. He was holding his father's lightsaber, a flush of blood widening about a rip in the gray vinesilk of his shirt sleeve, darkening to an ever-larger stain, the polished band to the centre of the lightsaber he held smeared with a scarlet slick- Vader's lightsaber.

The vision…the vision which had plagued Palpatine burst through his thoughts… of his Jedi holding Vader's lightsaber, hand and saber dripping with blood which seeped into the hem of Palpatine's cloak.

He looked slowly down… as the boy had thrown his own saber at Palpatine's feet, the deep wound on his forearm had flicked out a long trail of blood-red spots which spattered the edge of Palpatine's crimson gown, blooming out almost black in the low light. A slow drip fell from the unlit tip of Vader's lightsaber to the floor at the boy's foot, unnoticed.

Long seconds passed, in which Palpatine recognized the threat that he was facing - just how incensed his Jedi truly was… and for the first time he questioned whether he could control the wolf he had created; considered what it was capable of in this state-

Still, he would not concede the advantage so easily; he could yet force the boy to back down- had done so many times in the past.

"Did I teach you nothing?" he dismissed, turning away with studied assurance. "Never fight with an unfamiliar weapon- it's a glaring disadvantage."

"Then you should take the opportunity." Skywalker invited.

Without turning round, Palpatine fell back on the ultimate threat, rasping voice deadly quiet. "If you fight me now, I will destroy you. Do you understand?"

But his Jedi laughed - actually laughed - tone derisive, both of Palpatine's words and his own life, past caring anymore. "I'm nothing, Master- how many times have you told me that? _I'm nothing_- worthless, so how does my death matter? Who would care? I'm willing to die today if I can take you with me. I'd think that a fair exchange."

"Are you sure?" Palpatine countered calmly, though the first trails of alarm worried at his thoughts.

"I'm very sure." His Wolf said simply, and meant it. But he wasn't beyond the detached logic which enabled him to turn his Master's manipulations back on him- he'd learned his lessons too well. "You once told me that I should choose my battles, Master- only fight that which I was completely committed to winning. Well this it it - the one fight that I would pay _any price_ to win. I just never knew quite what that was- until now."

He loosed a feral grin, the hand which held his father's lightsaber disappearing behind his back as he turned slightly, changing his weight to set slowly forward, moving to a combat-ready stance. "And you, Master- are you willing to die today?"

"No." Palpatine said, aware that his Jedi was subtly closing the space between them to striking distance, "I have told you before, I am a hard man to kill."

"And I told you the first time we met that I was not my father- you'd never control me as you did him. I told you then I'd kill you given the chance."

"And you think this is it?" Palpatine grated derisively, "You're gravely mistaken."

"Pick it up." Luke countered, unmoved.

"Look at you- you're injured already." Palpatine put all his confidence and control into his next words; to instil doubt, _force_ the boy to back down, "You haven't the power to stand against me- not yet."

But Luke had lived too long in the Emperor's shadow now- he knew his mindgames and powerplays, knew how they worked, how to stand against them- and how to make them his own. So he only smiled wickedly against Palpatine's words, countering conviction with conviction.

"Yes I have- and you know it."

"You have no idea what I am capable of- don't make the mistake of judging me by what you have seen." Palpatine warned. "I am not your father- I will not hold back."

"No, you're not my father- so I'd caution you the same." Luke countered, unfazed.

Palpatine wavered just a fraction at the insinuation; had the boy been holding back- hiding his abilities?

Luke turned his father's lightsaber to a better grip, eyes expectant and committed and wild.

"How does it feel… _Master_?" he taunted into the Sith's wary silence, head dropping down and to the side, twists of unruly hair falling against old scars, mismatched eyes never leaving Palpatine's. "Nervous? Or are you simply appreciating the irony of the situation… because you did this- every time you tightened the noose around my neck you tightened it around your own."

Palpatine tried again, the threat which had held the boy for so long uttered from sneering lips, "If you lift that blade against me, Mara Jade's life is forfeit, do you understand? No second chance."

But the boy only shook his head slowly, amused, "Is that all you have left, Master? She's a poor bargaining chip - I know it's she who told you."

Intending to bring this confrontation to a decisive stop, Palpatine slowly moved his hand behind his back as Skywalker spoke, reaching subtly out into the Force, summoning the Darkness, feeling it tingling at the tips of his fingers…

"Don't _dare_…" his Wolf growled, head dropping, body tensing, "Don't even _think_ that I will let you."

Palpatine glanced down as Skywalker threw his father's saber from his left hand to his right, voice low, the threat absolute, his feral Jedi's warning issued in a hissing whisper; "Call it to you now and I'll rip you to pieces…"

The Emperor paused - actually hesitated beneath the assertion in that vow, issued with absolute malice through tight jaw. It froze his blue-tinged hand behind his back as his eyes went to Skywalker's left hand, out of sight as he had twisted his body side on, wondering if his Jedi could do this- if he had the ability, the knowledge, the _will _to summon Force-lightening. Knowing that if he did, he wouldn't hesitate- not now, when all control he'd held was lost.

Was it a bluff, or was the threat real?

Slowly, Palpatine allowed the radiant blue-white corona to dissipate unused…

.

Luke circled, committed past fear, mind crystal clear, watching every minute move Palpatine made, waiting for the subtle shift which would betray his intent.

"Do you remember the vision Master?" he said when the Sith remained still, "The wolf hunting in the dead of night, black against black. We've both seen it, in nightmares and visions… That's why you gave me the name, isn't it?"

"What of it?" Denial was pointless; they both knew the truth.

"All these years, ever since I was a child, I had that dream… the black wolf… always there- sometimes so close it was in my shadow. And every time I heard its breath; when I heard the scratch of its claws against stone as it set forward… I turned and ran." He tilted his head again, eyes barely visible as twists of hair fell forward, a cold smile curving the deep scar through his lips. "I was wrong. All this time, all these years… I always ran from the wolf."

"You could never run from the wolf- it was _in_ you, part of you. You _are_ the wolf."

"No, I'm not the wolf. But you're right- it is part of me. Because I doubted- I doubted my own ability, my judgement, my motives, my intent… and no matter how fast you run, those doubts always stay with you- just in your shadow. I think it's time to turn and face the wolf."

"You're wrong." Palpatine grated, instilling years of ingrained confidence and control into his words, _willing_ the boy down. "The wolf is Darkness and destiny. You _are_ the wolf."

"Perhaps I'm _your_ wolf, Master. But then you always knew that, didn't you?" He held his ground, unmoved, expression wild and menacing, coldly amused. "Perhaps we both turn and face our wolves tonight."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed, knowing now that this fight could not be avoided, that the boy would not back down, adrenaline and regret entwined at the realisation that he would have to destroy that which he had invested so much in creating.

A work of art, glorious and vicious and deadly, honed to perfection… too volatile though; too assertive now, too hostile to leave alive. The next generation would be easier to control, more pliant, owned and indoctrinated from birth.

But it would never be the same. Not as this wild thing, this feral twist of lost hope and bitter pain and raw power. It would never be this.

He had never truly owned it- not as he would have wanted- to do that would have destroyed it. But what glorious destruction, a trail of fire and desire to burn all other considerations to ash. Perhaps he should have done so anyway, just to know the rapture of possession, because now it was lost to him forever.

His eyes flicked momentarily to the lightsaber at his feet and Skywalker didn't miss the action. "Pick it up- or so help me I'll cut you to pieces unarmed."

"No you won't." Palpatine said, "Because you're weak. You always were. I never did quite wring that last shred of compassion from you. You will always be a disappointment to me- just like your father."

With a feral yell part fury part grief, Luke launched forward and Palpatine dropped his own lightsaber from his sleeve, igniting the blade with the Force as it fell, swinging it up to lash out a quick strike into his Jedi's face.

It was a perfect blow flawlessly delivered and it should have taken Skywalker's head from his shoulders…

Luke dodged the unexpected blade at the last second, twisting to the side as he buckled his knees, igniting his father's saber as he dropped down onto one hand, his blade whipping out as he did so to force Palpatine back.

He turned the move into a fast, one-handed backflip and came up quickly, twisting about, hand outstretched against the heavy stone plinth which Palpatine had launched towards him from the base of the dais, his countering Force smashing it to fine debris which exploded out about them, stinging bare flesh as Luke turned full circle, sabre raised to counter the incoming blow-

.


	33. Chapter 33

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Palpatine lunged forward with a series of short, fast, measured blows, looking for flaws, testing for weakness- the boy had recovered from major injuries less than a year ago, his arm and shoulders shattered by a massive, close-range blast and while he was well-enough healed, their skill levels were so close that even the smallest flaw should be sought out and exploited; a fraction of a second, a degree less flexion- at this level, they were the difference between life and death.

The offensive brought the brunt of his first attack to Skywalker's left side, seeking that advantage… but Skywalker held fast against the onslaught with only a single sidestep, deflecting every blow, repelling any advance, eventually taking the initiative and pushing Palpatine back three hasty paces before he disengaged and stepped beyond the boy's reach, freshly wary.

Despite furthering Skywalker's lightsaber skills in his early years here, Palpatine had always avoided duelling against the boy, even in practice; he was loathe to hand out any evidence as to his own ability when taking the opportunity to study and dictate his advocate's form. So the boy knew little of Palpatine's skill, whilst he knew his Wolf's in detail, physical and mental, always an advantage.

He knew the boy was volatile and fearless; that when he fought, it was because he was at the end of his patience and thus he could be goaded into mistakes, but after that first burst of aggression Skywalker would calm and calculate; look for weaknesses to play to in his opponent, for opportunities in the terrain, for the unexpected strike and the unorthodox tactic.

He knew the boy would be committed to the fight; that he'd push every chance, leave no option untried. He knew he was agile and dextrous in mind and body, and that the duel had always been his lasting interest. That those endless hours of practice had ensured his technique had few flaws and many strengths to play on.

But there were other weaknesses to exploit; as he had with his father, Skywalker was clearly looking for a fair fight; he didn't want - or more importantly he didn't feel the need - to use the Force in any other way than to augment his skill with the lightsaber. He was fast in mind and body and Palpatine was well aware that in an ethical fight he would struggle to bring the boy down.

But then in all his dealings with the boy, the Sith had never once held to a fair fight- it wasn't in his nature. The question was, had he taught that lesson by example too? It hardly shook his confidence, but it certainly concentrated his mind- and his resolve; the boy was deceitful; disloyal. Such betrayals deserved only one response.

Palpatine came quickly forward, batting Luke's blade up and to the side and at the same time he threw out a Force-blow which landed to Skywalker's midsection knocking the air from his lungs with enough force to send him staggering back a step, winded. Seeing the opportunity, Palpatine stepped quickly inside the boy's defences…

And saw just how fast his opponent really was-

Rather than try to bring his own blade up to hook the incoming blade away Skywalker arched backwards. He'd already released his blade into his right hand as Palpatine had swept it aside so that now as he arched back, he dropped onto his left hand, springing away from Palpatine in a tight backflip, his blade arcing round behind him to hold his opponent at bay, a solid wall of light so fast was the motion.

Momentarily Palpatine paused, uncertain whether the boy realized how close to the edge of the raised dais he was, but Skywalker made an nimble, unexpected flip-and-half-twist backward which took him safely over the drop to land soundly on both feet, dropping into a crouch to absorb the impact.

The half-twist had left him facing away from Palpatine and the Sith hurried forward with a long step-and-jump to push the seeming advantage home. But as Skywalker landed he'd used the momentum of the high flip to spin himself about on the balls of his feet, half-crouching to avoid what should have been the Sith's incoming blade, his own saber brought in tight to his body then whipping up in a massively powerful roundhouse blow as he stood-  
Ironically it was Palpatine's relative slowness to react and step into the feint which saved his life, leaving him that vital half-step away when Skywalker's blade came up in a slice which would have cleaved him from hip to shoulder. As it was, it sliced through the cloth of his cloak as he backpedalled wildly, a vivid revelation of their relative dexterity.

.

Skywalker wasted no time lamenting the missed blow, already coming forward again, less than a single beat between the strike and his advance.

Palpatine sidestepped, the high dais at his back, giving ground before a hail of fast blows, and was only able to stop the offensive by reaching out through the Force to seize at the massive bulk of the heavy sunburst throne, its mass grating forward as Palpatine prepared to launch it to the boy's unprotected side, as he had done moments earlier with the stone pillar-

But Skywalker was unwilling to make the same mistake twice and this time glanced to the side, dividing his attention without even reaching out his hand against the throne though Palpatine sensed a massive counter-weight thrown against it, forcing it back against his pull. As he released it, the weighty precious-metal throne toppled back where it stood with a dense, resounding thud, the massive beaten sun which formed its backrest gouging fine lines at the edge of the pale disk of inset marble which had once graced the Jedi Council's assembly hall.

Still, it afforded Palpatine two further steps back and put sufficient space in between them that when the boy spun back round his opponent was beyond reach and they once more stared each at the other - and in the seconds that followed, whilst each man stood poised, ready to renew the fight at the slightest sign, Palpatine reassessed his view.

.

He'd never been blind to his young advocate's speed and strength, but he'd always remained confident in his own supremacy for that very fact; his obvious superior experience, his seasoned mastery in comparison to his youthful apprentice. But Skywalker was no novice any more, his reflexes polished, his execution precise, diligently training, learning everything his exacting Master would teach him when Palpatine had prepared him for the duel with his father… and afterwards he'd devoted still more time to refining that ability, building on it and polishing it day on day, all in preparation for…

Palpatine's eyes narrowed and his chest heaved as he stared at the boy… all those hours invested in practice - he had always thought them an avoidance of Court and its corruptions, or a strategy to deal with Vader, when Palpatine finally allowed his Wolf permission to finish the duel he had curtailed by force years earlier - but in light of Mara's revelation, that had never been the case. Now the truth was enacted with cold confidence; now all those invested hours were meted out without qualm against his own Master…

Realisation filled Palpatine with cold fury-

_This_ had been in his head; this moment. Every drill, every kata, every advancement and refinement- it had all been leading to this; all focusing down to this moment.  
T_his_ duel.  
_This_ goal, _this_ objective… _this_ _betrayal_.

"_YOU!"_ Palpatine spat out the accusation, sulphurous yellow eyes aglow, "You always wanted my Empire - wanted my power for yourself. That's why you conspired with Vader!"

"Then why not kill _me_?" Luke almost shouted the words, fury and guilt barbed and bound within them "Why him? _I_ disobeyed…_I_ challenged you - not him!"

"You are more useful to me- despite your ambitions."

"And that's it?" Luke yelled, incredulous, "That's the limit of your compassion- your connection? You told me you created Anakin. You used the Force to create life and he was the result. You _created_ him - he was part of you. Your… your son."

"He was flawed." Palpatine dismissed without even a shade of regret, "His connection to the Force had been weakened."

"He was still yours! A part of you! You can't disown that connection, that bond."

"I've told you before- one must be prepared to relinquish the past to own the future."

For long seconds Luke stared, just stared at the Sith, completely beyond words…

Finally he nodded slowly, a veil of cool detachment dropping before those outraged eyes, features bathed blood-red by the saber's glow, voice low and ragged and charged with derision.

"You're right - you're right, Master. I shouldn't allow the past to influence present decisions- I shouldn't tolerate any such hold on me… none at all. You want me to learn at my glorious Master's feet? Then I do - I renounce you. I disown any link to you. Your claims of connection and heredity are _nothing_. They're immaterial. You have no heir - you have no dynasty. Your reign ends today and by your own choice you'll die alone and abandoned."

Palpatine was outraged before the torrent of accusations and rejections, lashing out a derisive condemnation, "If only your power were equal to your ambitions- perhaps then you'd have the potential to take my Empire from me…"

"I don't _want_ your precious…"

"Then what is this?" Palpatine hissed, "You brought this fight to me- what is this if not ambition?"

The boy shook his head in disbelief, grief making him spit out the words before he'd even thought to censure them in the presence of his ever-perceptive Master "This is _retribution_."

Palpatine found some part of his own composure at that obvious rush of emotion from the boy, the desolate despair that drove those words igniting a wide, goading grin. He saw a better weapon now to force a mistake and bring his charge down; Skywalker's all-too-obvious obvious guilt at his father's death.

"You blame me so completely but you surely knew that you were your father's replacement, child. The instant you cowed your father in a duel you sealed his fate. You proved you were stronger… you _knew_ that the moment I could control you as I controlled him he would become redundant."

"But you don't- " Skywalker contested, wild, wounded eyes shadowed behind dark hair in the low light, "You _don't_ control me, not completely… you never did, you know that- so why kill him?"

"…Then you _did_ understand-" The revelation set the Sith's head to one side; cruel amusement at the boy's pitiful weakness. "Is that why you struggled so? Always so unpredictable and erratic. Year after year, wilfully insubordinate - every time I thought I could trust you, every time I said as much… you went out of your way to disprove it, didn't you? Did you believe you could buy his life for as long as you were disobedient- keep your father safe? Nothing could do that, child. I work to my own agenda, not yours."

"Your _agenda_ has signed your death warrant." The boy vowed, "_You_ set this in motion- _you_ untied my hands!"

And there, with that incensed accusation, came to Palpatine the abrupt comprehension of what he had truly done. The act which he thought would be so containable - a punishment for disobeying his command, the guarantee that it could never be breached again…

In removing Vader, he had unwittingly removed _every_ restraint.

In his confidence, Palpatine had never looked for ulterior motives, sure that his possession of the boy was absolute. He'd believed that it was _his_ influence alone that had held sway- and perhaps for a time, when he'd first converted the boy, it had been. But the truth was that underlying Palpatine's control, limiting the boy's responses and shaping his actions, was that _one_ fact; that his father was alive - and what was necessary to keep him so.

All control which the Emperor had held of Skywalker had been unknowingly dependant on that single fact… and now, he'd effectively removed that one overriding constraint.

"_If you cut me down, you will make me more powerful than you could possibly imagine…"_

Abruptly the Sith realised Vader's cryptic words when he'd acknowledged his own fate earlier that day; that he'd known - had _chosen_ to die. To give his son this freedom, this impetus, this driving need to finally act.

The _need_ to act- to bring down Palpatine, as Palpatine had once brought his own Master down. Still panting from the last burst of exertion, the Sith gritted wasted teeth against the injustice of this situation - that Vader had finally out-manoeuvred his Master; had ultimately found the strength to break the bonds which had held him to grudging servitude for decades - and in doing so poisoned Palpatine's protégé against him.

The dog which had cringed so long at its Master's feet had finally found its teeth - and now the wolf smelled blood.

.

"You're running out of time." Skywalker stated, dropping his blade low in an invitation to attack, goading his opponent on.

Palpatine narrowed yellow eyes, unsure what the boy meant, and Skywalker smiled, the tip of his ruby blade weaving as he set in a slow circle about his old Master, remaining just out of range.

"Minutes- that's what you taught, Master; experience versus endurance- a veteran duellist has just minutes to bring a duel with a younger opponent to an end, because if he can't bring his challenger down quickly his advantage becomes his weakness. All those years of experience simply become all those years… you're tiring and your opponent hasn't even broken a sweat yet." Luke grinned in open provocation; "Isn't that what you said - the strongest wolf will lead the pack."

"I said experience overcomes strength." he corrected.

But the boy wouldn't be intimidated; "And yet I'm still here - and you're getting tired. So what do you need to beat experience _and_ strength, Master? Because you have one minute left to find it."

Palpatine gritted his teeth against the outrageous incitement, aware on some level that it was the truth; he knew he no longer had the boy's speed or dexterity, so that after that first flurry of blows, a large portion of his attack had been aimed at avoiding a direct confrontation, looking instead for alternative means to bring the duel to a quick, decisive end.

Again the boy stopped, spinning his sabre one-handed so that the cowl of the hilt was against the heel of his hand and bringing it in tight to his back, the scarlet blade upright behind his body in an open invitation to attack. Palpatine hesitated, knowing the boy's reflexes now; that he was not nearly as vulnerable as he appeared, his feet carefully placed, his shoulders already turned to give power to the imminent underhand strike; this was one of his favourite moves, to lure in and then lash out, his reflexes and dexterity equal to the task.

So Palpatine remained still, no counter to the invitation… and the boy grinned in provocation, his empty hand out before him, palm up, raising his eyebrows in unspoken question; _afraid?_

Palpatine bridled at that; almost set forward- almost walked in to the trap anyway, so incensed was he at the inference. But he caught himself; _experience_ held him back, despite the blatant incitement.

Oh, he saw so much of himself in the boy….

And the boy had allowed it, he realized; encouraged it because it served his own ends- convinced Palpatine to see that connection with himself to the exclusion of any others… even Vader.

"You manipulative little creature." he growled, incensed.

Skywalker only smiled, unoffended; "I learned from the best."

The Emperor came forward at that, blade high, and the boy caught the blow, his blade travelling downward to his opponent's hands. At the last second, Palpatine stepped forward, twisting his blade up and to the side as he did so, robbing Skywalker's counter of any momentum and forcing him to backstep and disengage or allow the Sith inside his defences.

Palpatine pulled back grey lips in a half-smile, half-sneer, "The wise Master never teaches all that he knows."

Skywalker grinned, unimpressed, "The wise pupil knows he should look further afield to complete his knowledge."

"It won't be enough to save you child, not now; not from me. It never was. You don't have the power to stand against a Sith Master. I brought down a thousand Jedi at the height of their power- you think one more will test me? Or do you believe all those Jedi Masters who came before were lesser men than you, with lesser resolve? Do you truly think yourself above them all? What could you possibly have that they- "

"Don't waste your breath." Luke bit out contemptuously, "These are old lessons long since learned. You've used them too often already, Master. Half the fight is in the head, isn't that what you taught? If I'm committed to win - if I _believe_ I will bring you down - then I'm half way there already. I know what I want and I know what I'm capable of. What _you_ say - what _you_ _think _- is immaterial; my wolves are gone, Master. The only thing which stands in my shadow now is you. Your wolf is right here- what did you call it… Darkness and destiny."

"Oh, I know what you're capable of," Palpatine hissed, "Betrayal and lies. I know what you want- my power; my title… my Empire.

Skywalker shook his head, setting subtly forward again, hiding the advance behind a slow circling of his opponent. "You're wrong - I don't want your Empire Master; only you. But I'll take it, because that's the only thing you ever valued so that's what will hurt you most. I really don't _care_ about your precious Empire… I simply want to hurt you. If you'd left me alone, I'd probably still be farming dust on that dried-up desolate little planet, but you couldn't bear the thought that there might be someone out there with the potential to stop you. _You_ came after _me_."

"Vader pursued you-" Palpatine said, but the boy wasn't willing to listen; to allow his convictions to be divided.

"_You_ did this. You created me, not my father- _You! _You created your wolf- you fulfilled the vision. You _made_ your own killer."

"Liar! You want power."

"No- I just want to take it from you. And when I do, when I hold your power and your position, I'll dedicate it to one thing, Master. Because it's not enough just to kill you. You destroyed my life - you cut it away slice after pitiless slice until Luke Skywalker was dead and gone - and I'm what's left. I'm everything that _you_ made me. Luke Skywalker would have killed you, but that's not enough for me, not anymore- you taught me that. So when I take your power I'm going to dedicate it to removing every single trace that you ever existed. Every record, every image, every document, every statue. _Everything_. Within a decade you'll be gone, like you never existed. And then I'll take your ashes and I'll scatter them to the winds…….. All that work, all your ambitions, your power, your precious Sith dynasty- all reduced to nothing. Dust in the wind. _That's_ what I want- " he loosed a feral grin, mismatched eyes like ice and fire beneath long twists of wild hair. "Stop me if you can."

Outraged, Palpatine threw out his hand and Luke sensed the pull in the Force, the danger running a cold warning down his spine, Palpatine's fury imbuing incredible focus and power-

There was a grinding, wrenching _'c-rack!'_ high behind Luke, stone shearing from stone.

Luke didn't turn- instead he focused on the substantial bulk of the incoming missile, one of the massive carved pillarheads, then reached out and took a solid Force-grip of his own, adding his own velocity, catapulting the substantial carved block onward with only the slightest change in its trajectory, crouching low as it surged past overhead so close that its leading edge rustled through his hair as he ducked.

Palpatine realised of course, but the combined momentum of two powerful wills was an incredible power to stop in the space of two strides, so that even as he threw out his hands to stop it, the massive section of marble pillar cannoned into hastily created shields, shattering outward, Luke maintaining that relentless momentum. Bracing, Palpatine was thrown back by the sheer force of the blow as the fighter-sized block of stone impacted his shields, skidding across the smooth floor in a flurry of red and raven robes.

Luke set grimly forward as the column of the missing pillar-head collapsed with ground-wrenching force behind him, the dust sheeting out about him in a wide cloud.

.

.

.

Mara walked with forced calm down the grand, deserted hallways toward the Throne Room, the Force buzzing all about her, grating through the air, slicing through her mind, setting her teeth on edge. This was no argument; no spirited clash or heated dispute- this was Darkness and it rolled through the cavernous hallways like a tidalwave, so that it took all that Mara was to simply walk; to hold her poise and composure, chest tight, muscles taught as she neared the rising storm. And every step closer made her heart beat faster, made her breath burn with adrenaline at the back of her throat.

If Luke had challenged Palpatine outright, there could be only one reaction; it wouldn't be a return to the cells, it wouldn't be chastisement or punishing reprisal- it would be a death sentence.

Her walk quickened pace to a jog, then an open run as desperation cut in, feet slipping on the polished marble floors, footfalls echoing in the empty halls.

When she rounded the final stairwell, taking the wide steps three at a time, the massive concourse was empty - no guards; nothing.

She raced forward to the massive arched entryway… and her heart sank, feet skidding to a halt of their own accord. Her eyes locked on the crumpled forms of the eight Red Guard laying before the closed doors, their bodies slumped against the walls where they fell- and she knew it was Luke. Knew what he intended.

Had he challenged Palpatine already? Was that what this was; a duel between Sith.

But Vader was dead, and she'd sensed no such upheaval then- not like this. Just a single burst, a flare of intense radiance, a release like the shock-wave of a detonation; a momentary rush, then nothing.

Not like this.

She glanced about, afraid that someone had seen the guards, that the alarm had been raised, but Palpatine had cancelled Court and the corridors were deserted, these levels out of bounds when Court was not in session.

Heart pounding, she set forward again at an unsteady walk, her legs trembling, the upheaval hammering at her mind, almost overwhelming at this proximity. Glancing up to the crushed security lens, she took her comlink in her hand and contacted Palace Security, stilling the tremble in her voice as she assured them that all was under control.

"What's happening?" the tight voice asked, and Mara knew that the guards here must have been dead before they even fell; no time to sound the alarm. All Security knew was that they hadn't checked in... now the only thing which was stopping them from sounding a general alert was her own status and security clearance.

"It's an impromptu security assessment at the Emperor's command; that's why the Court was cancelled today- reaction times are being monitored and units tracked. You're not one of those under scrutiny; you need to stand down and not influence the results."

"We have two lenses down in you location…"

"That's for the assessment- you needn't do anything. They'll be back up when we're through. Clearance code is override Jade nine-three-five-nine, terra actual."

It was so easy; so easy to use her reputation and her rank… Of course it was; she was beyond suspicion, absolutely loyal.

Absolutely loyal….

_Stand down from any alarm_, she'd assured, using override codes the Emperor himself had supplied. Was this treason? Probably. She didn't care; if Palpatine lived to accuse her, it would be because Luke was dead…

.

There was a colossal spike in the Force making her flinch back, then a foreboding rumble of tremendous noise, the floor beneath her feet shuddering ominously.

Mara rushed forward, her hand reaching for the locked release at the centre of the door… and froze, unable to move, loyalties split between her master and her lover.

The outpouring of energy into the Force was a whirlwind now, incredible intensity, power drawn to power, wild and furious and dangerous and determined, all twisted through and bound up in each-other so closely that the individual sense of the two combatants within couldn't be separated, lost in the surge.

And it terrified Mara.

She desperately wanted to enter, to run into the room… but then what - when she was inside, then what? Who would she help and who would she fail? Whose aid would she come to- who would she protect when the blade went to their throat?

What should she do… because she was at a loss- she had no idea; none at all.

A second rumble vibrated through her hands resting on the heavy doors and she felt her legs buckle, collapsing to her knees, her arms up about her head as if she could shut out the roiling turmoil, shut out the pain and the fear and the chaos in her head.

.

.

Just visible to Palpatine through the settling dust, Luke set forward over the scattered remnants of the immense pillarhead, the boulder-sized fragments slowing him as he climbed and jumped over them, intending to push home his advantage whilst it still remained, knowing that even this wouldn't keep the Sith Master down for long.

Palpatine had deflected the massive chunk of stone at the last moment, its weight as it impacted against his shields compressing the air about him, pushing it from his lungs with incredible intensity, leaving him gasping as he fell, winded.

And the boy came forward without hesitation, without conscience; everything that Palpatine had desired of him, everything that he had worked so hard to create- the wolf, smelling blood on the air.

But he'd find no quick victory here- no easy prey; all he did was concentrate Palpatine's resolve. The Sith staggered, trying to stand upright but falling again, Skywalker jumping onto a hip-high chunk fallen masonry, sabre lit-

Without hesitation Palpatine reached out, the Force twisting the boulder beneath his attacker, taking any foothold he had. Skywalker lurched back without loosing his balance, leaping clear to land solidly on the marble floor, steadying himself in seconds, already moving forward again.

Palpatine glanced down, hands to the ground as the boy came forward-

Luke braced, muscles tensing, knowing the Sith wasn't nearly as vulnerable as he'd have Luke believe, searching for the snare-

Without warning, the weighty marble floor beneath his feet erupted up into rubble, the fissure throwing up razor-sharp fragments, following Luke's footsteps as he stumbled back, Palpatine's hand outstretched on the floor.

Unable to recover as the floor bucked wherever he placed his feet, Luke fell to one knee, saber held beside him as he sent out a single massive Force-pulse in every direction, the heavy rubble about him wrenching outward in a jolt of kinetic energy, Palpatine shying back from the surge, twisting away, arm before his face as finer debris was launched back.

Luke lurched up and forward, covering the distance in seconds, Palpatine igniting his blade as the boy came forward, staggering back at the fury of the first few blows.

They locked blades, each man pushing in, leaning into the live blades, faces lit by the sparking, incandescent glow of the scarlet sabres-

Abruptly Luke stepped forward and to the side, taking the risk of dropping his blade as he did so, the sudden release of counter-pressure on his blade sending Palpatine staggering forward a step as Luke twisted about, blade in his right hand to affect a swift backhand swipe as he came around, Palpatine half-jumping clear to avoid the unexpected blow.

He staggered back as the boy turned fully about, sabre still low. Palpatine twisted his blade in an infinity loop to hold him at bay- and the boy simply paused coolly beyond its range, neither provoked nor hesitant, allowing Palpatine the move, knowing he couldn't sustain it.

And he was right; the Emperor brought his blade down and to the side and Skywalker set immediately forward. He was controlling the fight Palpatine knew, as he once had with Vader; always pressing in, closing distance and reaction time with short, fast blows, _making_ Palpatine fight at close range where speed was everything; forcing the fight on his terms.

Too close; to agile, too fast to fight a fair fight.

Palpatine glanced about the vast chamber seeking other means, though the empty room held little to use against his rival.

No words now, no goading or validation. The fight had fallen to focused silence, all energy and attention given over to the duel, both combatants aware on some level that the end was near, one way or the other.

The boy came in with blade high, a massive blow with all the power of his arms and shoulders behind it, Palpatine drawing on the Force to absorb the impact, Skywalker using the counter-strength of the block to spin about and bring his blade in low, forcing Palpatine back. He caught Skywalker's low blade, dragging it around in a big arc, forcing both men to spin about to break the hold, each coming back to face the other a half-step back; the boy set forward immediately, always closing that gap- but it was all the space Palpatine needed.

He reached out with the Force to the tall pillar behind himself, wise enough now to know better than to launch such an object from a direction the boy could use against him. A man-sized hunk of twisted, cable-reinforced stone pillar grated free at the top of the fluted column and launched past the Sith toward Luke.

All his momentum moving forward, Luke had no time to counter the substantial bulk of the incoming missile so planted his forward foot down, letting his rear knee buckle, one hand to the ground behind him before kicking off into a tight backflip as the immense chunk of masonry whistled by overhead, his knees lifting behind its rear edge as it skimmed past, Luke tucking neatly in to land a second after it passed, coming back up so quickly that his hair brushed the pillar's trailing edge as he pulled upright, jerking his lightsaber up against the fast roundhouse blow which came in at stomach height, making Palpatine spring backward to gain enough momentum to counter the strike.

Both men staggered as the heavy pillar impacted behind them, dragging gouges into the marble floor, throwing up fine debris and dust as it ground to a halt with a reverberating resound which trembled through the building, neither noticing in the heat of the duel.

Already Palpatine was coming forward to push his advantage, but the boy was moving too, not a moment's hesitation or protest. Unlike his duel with his father three years earlier, he let out no yells of outrage or frustration at his opponent's reluctance to fight fairly, conveying only a grim determination, a fire in his eyes that Palpatine had never seen before-

.

Bringing his blade up and back in a one-handed defence Luke powered forward to meet Palpatine's incoming blade, whipping his own about it and pushing it aside as he launched a heavy Force-blow to his Master's side, the impact twisting Palpatine about in a staggering misstep, Luke's bright ruby blade droning past Palpatine's shoulder with unerring aim as he twitched away, the fabric of his gown momentarily lighting in a curl of smoke.

Palpatine broke off and to the side as Luke snapped his blade round for one more sniping blow at head-height, his Master heaving deep breaths in as Luke stalked slowly to the side, sabre still in one hand, sidestepping, searching for that opening…

Luke saw the momentary shadow which crossed his Master's face and knew why, but if Palpatine chose not to fight honourably then Luke certainly felt no guilt at matching his Master - not any more, his mood twisting in frustration, both at Palpatine's actions and at his own part in initiating them.

Because his Master was right about one thing; Luke _had_ caused this fight- his own weaknesses, his compassion, the human frailties which Palpatine had tried so hard to cull from him and Luke had fought so long to hold on to as if they were some kind of asset, when in truth it was these self-indulgent flaws which had brought him here today.

_Luke's _fault in allowing Mara even a fraction of the truth; in _wanting_ her to do the right thing, in giving her the opportunity, the choice- in _believing_ she would do it. _His_ weakness. _His_ craving for some kind of closeness, despite Palpatine's warning.

_His_ wish for a deeper kinship with his father, a commonality, despite all the risks. It was _he_ who had allowed his father in, seeking some bond, _he_ who had allowed Mara close because despite everything he wanted to trust her… yet another excuse; a way to abdicate responsibility. And he wouldn't allow himself them anymore.

It was _his_ weakness and not Mara's which had caused his father's death.

_His_ weakness that had set all of this in motion. Had cost him so much and brought him to this.

His Master was right; compassion was a debilitating flaw yet he'd held to it like a prized possession when the truth was that it was a curse, nothing less. A weakness to be mastered.

Just like Palpatine- he too was a flaw Luke had allowed to fester; a drain on his energy and intentions. Another impediment he'd _allowed_ himself to tolerate rather than remove. Well, no more;

No more weaknesses.

He reached out into the Force for the power he knew dwelled there, howling for recognition, baying to be used, eager to be summoned…

And took it.

.

Palpatine hesitated at the change that came over his Wolf as he stalked forward, scarred face etched now with grim intent, lightsaber low and to his side, eyes afire, glowing golden at their brink…

His left hand rose, outstretched, the action strangely familiar to Palpatine…

Bright actinic lightening flared for a moment about Skywalker's hand then launched forward in a razor-barbed burst, lancing towards Palpatine, dazzling energy slicing into him in a fury of unrestrained power, seizing muscles, freezing lungs.

For a moment Palpatine caught the bolts, countered them- but they only intensified, breaking through barriers, overrunning defences as he wilted beneath the onslaught.

A massive, potent burst, then Skywalker's hand jerked open, twisted as his amber-edged eyes turned down, the Force ripping Palpatine's feet from under him, throwing him hard to the ground, stabbing strikes of brilliant, Force-powered energy into muscles with white-hot pain-

.

He could do it, Luke knew. He could kill him now; just maintain this for a little longer- sear flesh from muscle, burn muscle from bone, char bone to black, crumble it to ash. The Sith deserved no more. Let _him_ know what this felt like! Luke had been on the receiving end of Palpatine's fury often enough, had collapsed beneath it, craving unconsciousness as a respite from the pulsing, blistering, burning pain…

Abruptly, he broke off the attack, vivid memories lighting a lucid flare of horrified self-reproach.

No- not like this.

He took two staggering steps back as Palpatine gasped for breath, smoke curling from his singed clothes. Luke turned away, resolve faltering…

.

Still breathless, Palpatine glanced up, expecting to see the incoming blade… but the boy staggered back, pale blue eyes appalled as he curled his hand to a fist, lost in some inner battle.

Seeing him hesitate and realising his opportunity, the Sith lurched up, reaching out with the Force, searching any weapon-

The move was lightening-fast, the boy lost in thought, and Palpatine finally scored the blow he'd sought; the heavy, carved footrest which lay at the foot of his toppled throne yanked forward with incredible speed and power, impacting with a rewarding _crack_ on the back of his opponent's head-

.

Luke didn't know what hit him; he only saw a bright flash then stars exploded in his vision as his legs collapsed beneath him and he dropped to his knees, some distant voice within him chiding his own inattention beneath that burst of undeserved compassion, sight and sound fading to the encroaching blackness;

_Don't pass out…. Don't pass out!_

His hand went to the floor to steady himself as he sensed Palpatine step grimly forward, reality reduced to a slow loop of nauseating gravity which dragged awareness ever slower-

_Don't pass out…_

He drew the Force to him, giving him the power to lurch unsteadily up and back as Palpatine rushed in, Luke still staggering from the blow as he brought his sabre up in weak defence, head spinning, vision blurred.

The Emperor's pale hand rose, spindly fingers splayed, and the hasty Force-strike came like a body-blow to the centre of Luke's chest, making him stumble back, breath knocked from his lungs in a scarlet-spattered gasp.

Palpatine brought his sabre up and forward in a lunging stab and Luke barely batted it aside with no retaliation, no reciprocating blow; he only staggered further back, tripping unsteadily over unseen debris, arm out to steady himself as he struggled to recover, the Emperor sidestepping and disappearing from his still-narrowed vision, blade raising high to deliver another blow.

Luke backed up, still dazed, struggling for breath, heart pounding loud in his ears-

The back of his hip bumped against something and he realised he'd backstepped all the way to the raised dais, automatically putting it to his side, aware on some level that to do so would reduce Palpatine's field of play, keep him trapped in Luke's limited line of sight. It cut down his own manoeuvrability but at this point that wasn't even a concern- his main consideration was simply staying upright.

_Don't pass out- not now, after all this- after all these years, don't pass your one chance up…_

Anger and frustration welled up inside him at that and the Darkness answered, pumping fresh power to trembling limbs, sending blood and oxygen rushing round his body and he clung to it- to the power it gave.

He wouldn't let him win; he wouldn't let the black-hearted Sith steal this. He'd stop him; no matter what the cost - if it was his own life, he'd stop him.

.

He swayed uneasily, chest heaving, giving ground as Palpatine came forward along one side of the dais, aware that he was being backed into one of the tall, heavy, metalwork screens which divided the cavernous space; using the Force he reached out behind him and yanked the massive screen back against its mechanism with a screeching wrench, giving him the clearance to stumble into the room beyond.

As Palpatine closed Luke slammed the massive screen shut, forcing the Sith to take a hasty step back to avoid being hit by the heavy slab of floor-to-ceiling metal. On impulse Luke lunged blindly forward again, sabre before him, the blade cutting effortlessly through the precious-metal screen until the tip of his hilt hit the white-hot surface, and was rewarded with a half-yell from behind the screen.

Knowing better than to remain where he was, Luke dropped down, one hand to the ground, pulling his saber back and rolling away as he did so, mind and vision clearing. An instant later Palpatine's saber blazed through the screen above Luke exactly where he had stood, the scarlet blade cutting a narrow horizontal slash through screen as Palpatine Force-yanked it back a half-second later and lunged forward into the ante-room.

Luke's mind raced, adrenaline giving incredible clarity, the brief moment's respite offering realization- a plan… and it had to be now-

Muscles bunching, he powered up, staggering back to the other screen, reaching out with the Force to get a solid grip and dragging it open as he rushed back through into the main chamber, slamming it shut as Palpatine stalked through the first screen and into the small ante-room, giving Luke valuable seconds unseen in the main chamber.

He set forward to the dais at a half-run, eyes glancing about it as he reached out his hand…

.

Palpatine dragged the second screen aside with a yell, setting purposely forward, his limp pronounced, ochre eyes scanning the massive, debris-littered Throne Room. Skywalker turned about from his run toward the dais, seeking room to manoeuvre, backstepping across the cream marble of the inset floor from the old Jedi Council Chamber so he did so, the shattered remnants of Palpatine's precious Sunburst Throne scattered about the dais, the dying embers of the day bleeding over the beaten golden sun as it lay on the pale cream of the wide circular marble inlay, like twin suns setting…

.

The Sith launched forward at a broken run, Skywalker giving ground against the onslaught, a flurry of bright scarlet blades, a wall of incandescent light weaving through the air, each looking for the advantage, completely focused, unyielding, each blow laid with flawless precision, each counter leading to an attack, the pace implacable now, the intensity decisive, each attack pushing home, forcing a mistake-

It was Skywalker who faltered; stumbled, the momentary lapse bringing his blade up a fraction too late, giving Palpatine the impetus to catch the one-handed blow rather than block it and enabling him to hook Vader's lightsaber away from the boy, sending it clattering back across the Throne Room floor, Skywalker's empty hand still reaching after it as he turned side-on, twisting back, eyes wide, to face his foe empty-handed-

.

"Where are your reflexes now, boy…" Palpatine grinned, voice triumphant as he brought his own blade back one-handed in a wide, open arc to deliver the killing blow-

"Where's your experience… _Master_?" the boy hissed derisively.

.

The moment- _the instant_ the words left Skywalker's mouth, Palpatine knew what he'd done, recognized his error; that he had been played, encouraged by his opponent's helplessness to make a grand gesture, leaving himself open a fraction too long-

Palpatine twisted his wrist, brought his scarlet blade about and in-

But he wasn't nearly fast enough; Skywalker's arm came from behind his back with devastating speed-

In his hand was his own lightsaber, recovered from the dais where he had abandoned it at the duel's start, the blade still activating as he brought it up with the speed of a whiplash, batting Plpatine's blade back, already inside his defences-

The perfect deception, flawlessly executed, any chance of a hasty defence squandered by Palpatine in the belief that his foe was unarmed.

No fair fight here after all - only the desire to win. Perhaps they were more similar than either realised…

Skywalker's saber closed on Palpatine's throat, his father's lost blade returning in that same moment to his outstretched hand, the two blades meeting in a scissor action-

"_STOP__!!" _Palpatine poured five long years of merciless control into that single word.

.

Stupidly- _stupidly_- Luke hesitated, unable to withstand the intensity in his Master's command. He faltered, the moment's dark clarity lost, intent wavering… and the Sith saw it.

"You always hesitated, Jedi. You always doubted yourself." Palpatine wheedled, voice hypnotic, yellow eyes shifting from genuine fear to a self-assured composure. He shook his head in mock pity, grating voice dismissive and amused, "I didn't make you- you made yourself with your own insecurities and fears. I warned you to hold them in check or your enemies would use them against you…"

.

A small wisp of smoke curled up past the edge of Luke's vision, daunting in its implications-

Realising, he glanced down… below the bright radiance of the two scarlet sabres in his hands was the incandescent glow of a third-

And Luke heard the goading triumph in his Master's voice; "How much do you want me dead, my little Sith?"

Luke's hesitation at his Master's words had created the opportunity for him to slowly bring his own blade about, level with Luke's stomach, the tip now inches away from his skin, burning a fine hole in the fabric of his shirt-

Palpatine kept those sulphurous yellow eyes steady on Luke, "… Enough to kill yourself for the opportunity?" The slightest of deprecating grins pulled thin, bloodless lips back from spoiled yellow teeth; the boy had hesitated too long… he'd won again. The Sith shook his head slowly, voice malicious and mocking, "I think not."

Luke remained frozen, seeing exactly every nuance of emotion as it passed over his Master's decrepit features, mismatched blue eyes remaining locked on spiteful yellow-flecked ochre….

.

_This was the price_…this was the price to end his Master's reign - because if he _truly_ wanted to end it then to kill Palpatine wasn't enough. His precious Sith Dynasty would continue, he had already ensured that….

Luke blinked slowly, a strange, detached calm flowing through him, buzzing in his ears.

Time slowed about him, his heartbeat dragging…

Abruptly he remembered Bespin- remembered this same pacific peace settling so benignly about him as he'd stood, resolute, at the edge of the instrument vane, no-where left to go…

No-where left to go.

_This was the price_… and he was willing to pay.

.

He held his eye on the end goal, unflinching and composed, committed to the action.

The tranquil stillness which bled through him was like a deep breath of warm air, gifting acceptance and serenity, the ability to move forward. The slightest of smiles twitched at the corners of his scarred lips as Luke stared at his Master for long seconds… but he _would not_ blink-

Mismatched blue eyes hardened, defiant…. and he watched that heinous grin fall from his Master's face-

In that last second, Palpatine saw the commitment in those wild eyes-

He retreated, stumbled back a step, saber out before him at his Jedi's stomach-

.  
…_The stubbornness which was a strength…  
__Death… he heard the grating drone of the blades- scarlet red, the colour of blood and betrayal…  
_…_the hiss of superheated light….  
._

Luke lunged forward into Palpatine's blade, embedding it front to back through his own body, jerking at the bite, pulling the crossed sabers in his hands open as he did so, the scissored blades slicing effortlessly through flesh and bone-

The Sith's decapitated body fell away before him, Luke remaining upright for a few seconds more as Palpatine's blade tugged free from his body, bringing Luke crumpling to his knees.

In the next instant, a backwash of power exploded out from the dead Sith's corpse- Darkness and fury and fear released, the energy impacting on Luke as he gasped against it, wrenched backwards by the force, unable to do more in that moment than simply endure it.

.

When he opened his eyes, aware again, he was crumpled against the far wall, still somehow upright but knelt down awkwardly, sat on his heels, arms wrapped about his stomach against the fire which burned deep there.

In the absolute silence, he listened to his own laboured breathing for a long time…

He wondered if he could stand, realised that he couldn't, recognized that he was sagging down now, falling deeper into the utter silence, reality becoming an ever more distant whisper as his body began to fail.

Momentarily he panicked, looking about him… holding out his hand, he called his father's lightsaber to him across the dust-strewn floor and tried unsuccessfully to pick it up, hands incredibly weak.

Instead, he rested his palm on it, the searing fire in his stomach expanding outwards now, weakness toppling him over onto his side, the shattered room twisting dizzily about him. His eyes fluttered, lungs burning against laboured breaths, simply breathing becoming an impossible task, chest heaving air in short, shallow breaths, no oxygen left, like suffocating- like drowning in deep water.

He let out a gasping sigh and whispered her name - in that moment nothing else mattered; neither betrayal nor blame. All he wanted was to touch her sense again, to touch that radiant red hair, soft as silk and bright as glowing flame; "Mara…."

And the world faded away….

.

.

.

Knelt outside the doors, slumped on the floor, Mara buried her head in her hands until the roaring tornado of power drawn from the Force fell to ominous stillness, leaving her sure they were both dead…

She sat and sobbed into the void, the silence absolute.

.

His voice speaking her name issued from nowhere and everywhere, no more than a broken whisper, his sense fading to darkness.

She dragged herself upright, tears blurring her vision so that she clawed blindly at the lock, rushing in, desperate hope thrown out against all belief, convinced they were both dead.

Palpatine's decapitated body lay in the centre of the pale cream marble, a burst of grimy destruction radiating out about it in the devastated room, his precious, prophetic throne toppled beside him. She walked no closer, searching the dust-laden gloom, desperate and desolate, afraid to see-

Little more than a crumpled shadow in the all-pervading darkness, Luke lay slumped on his side, ashen white and deathly still.

Mara stumbled forward, tears blurring her vision, breath frozen in her lungs, caught in a lockjam at the back of her throat… then she was on her knees beside him, reaching out tentatively to touch his face…

The relief was a physical release so intense she felt the blood drain from her head, leaving her dizzy and faint.

_He's alive… he's alive!!_

She stroked his hair and cried all over again, the emotion spilling out of her, unstoppable, fear and hope and disbelief and loss and longing, too much to possibly process. All she could do was stroke his hair and whisper to that distant sense, growing ever paler.

He wouldn't die- he _wouldn't_. She wouldn't let him. He was everything she needed- everything this whole sad, lost, battered galaxy needed…

He couldn't die. Not after all this…

She swiped the tears away with the heel of her hand as years of indoctrination cut through the shock and the absolute calm of a trained soldier kicked in once again.  
Pulling herself together with a long, trembling sigh, she lifted her comlink from the floor where it had fallen unheeded.

Her voice back under complete control, she commed Reece, "The Heir requires your presence immediately, Reece- and that of Hallin. In the Throne Room."

"The Throne Room?" She could hear his nervousness - how much did he already know? "Court isn't in session today, Commander Jade- and.. I was under the impression that The Heir had not yet returned from Mosiin Barracks."

"He arrived a short time ago… for a critical meeting regarding command structure." Would he understand?

There was a long pause… "Will the Emperor be attending?"

Mara sighed just slightly, understanding the question, "The Emperor is.. no longer here."

Again Reece paused, clearly as unwilling to speak on an open channel as Mara, but recognising the necessity, " Hallin's attendance is…"

"Crucial." Mara said.

She switched off the comm, knowing Reece would already be on his way. She had an Empire to secure.


	34. Chapter 34

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**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

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.

In the event, Mara had very little to do; everything was apparently already in place, and it was Reece in the Palace and Admiral Joss onboard the Patriot who moved everything forward with the kind of planning and precision which had clearly been months if not years in the making.  
She was in fact, politely but firmly _ex_cluded; sidelined - advised that she would be of most value staying with The Heir and keeping Reece updated on his condition - and even that tentative, since by the time they arrived by back corridors and covert passageways at Hallin's dedicated medi-center, a group of ten plain-clothes men, all obviously military but none of whom Mara recognised, were waiting outside the surgery by Reece's command, appointed as The Heir's new bodyguards.

So it came as no surprise to Mara when Reece was already waiting in the recovery room by the time Luke left surgery; thoughts only on Luke, she hadn't contacted Reece yet, but there were clearly several others who had.

Members of the 701st, easily recognised by the dark blue pauldron on the shoulder of their white armour, were scattered about the area now, concealed just inside the medi-center doors out of sight of casual passers-by, the ten plain-clothes bodyguards doing their best to look inconspicuous in the corridor beyond.

How many more were in the Palace, Mara wondered, already smuggled down from the Patriot in orbit? How many more were ready to move at a moment's notice; how many had already responded to coded messages?

She stepped quickly forward as Luke was moved from the gurney onto a high-dependency bed, eyes and thoughts instantly on him. Deathly pale, covered with cuts and bruises, still connected up to life-support following surgery, he looked terrifyingly fragile.

"Well?" Reece asked tightly as Hallin activated the scanning monitors over the bed.

"Well he's just had five hours of surgery." the medic said distractedly, eyes locked on the readouts. "There is, not surprisingly, very little information available on how to treat lightsaber wounds."

"Surely they're similar to any laser wounds." Mara prompted, making Hallin glance up at her momentarily.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" he said, voice dripping with patronizing sarcasm. He wasn't a shy man at the best of times, and had great faith in his own medical abilities- fortunately he was right. "The wound left an sloping exit high enough to puncture his left lung, introducing air into the chest cavity every time he drew breath, filling the cavity in which the lungs normally expanded and restricting lung capacity; he was suffocating with every breath-"

"Nathan," Reece cut through the irrelevant explanation, greater things on his mind. "I need to know whether to send the transmission out."

Hallin sighed, turning back to the unconscious man, "I really can't tell you at this point."

Mara frowned, "What transmission?"

Both men ignored her, "That's not good enough. I need an answer."

"I can't give you one. He has severe abdominal trauma- I've just packed a hole through his stomach which ran front to back, patched his lung back together and directed three surgical droids tying up the loose ends for the last two hours. I have no models for this kind of surgery- the only remaining information is kept by the Emperor's medical staff and I think they'd be understandably reluctant to part with it, don't you?"

"So there is information available? If I sent a team over there now…"

Hallin shook his head, "And tell them what? You'd never contain that kind of information request- they wouldn't release it without Palpatine's express permission and even if they were willing, I'd bet it's code-restricted to Palpatine, Pestage, Amedda and a few others, and when you couldn't get that code people would start asking questions. You may as well announce to the whole galaxy that the Emperor is dead and The Heir - the only person capable of standing against him - is seriously wounded. It's hardly a stretch to put that information together and come up with the logical conclusion, Wez."

Mara glanced at Reece, "Is that so important? You'll have to announce the Emperor's death anyway."

"But it's hardly the time to let slip that his Heir is seriously injured." Reece said in agreement with Hallin, "The information would be unstoppable; it would be out of the Palace within minutes- we'll be lucky to contain it as it is."

"We can protect him." Mara stated, very sure.

"No." Reece said decisively, looking to Hallin. "We stick to the plan. Nothing changes until we have two loyal Super Star Destroyers and four Destroyers in orbit and at least two thirds of the 701st in position- as well as all key supporters. The codes have gone out - the Patriot's presently in orbit and the, the Dauntless, the Executor, the Peerless and the Avenger have already responded - I need nineteen hours to implement everything. We put out the announcements based on that schedule and we ease this in as planned. Which means I have to know his prognosis- I can't very well start disseminating images of The Heir assuring that everything is under control only to have everyone find out that he died two hours previously."

Mara frowned, "What images?"

Reece ignored her, attention on Hallin, "So I need assurance."

"I can't give it!" Hallin hissed, "You're asking me to give guarantees which I'm not in a position to know."

Mara took a step back, outraged by the surreal image of Luke's two most trusted advisors arguing over his unconscious body about whether or not he was going to make it through the next few hours- not out of concern, but on the grounds that they needed to manage the HoloNet.

"What the hell are you doing!? Listen to yourselves- listen to what you're saying!"

Both men turned, but it was Reece who found his voice first.

"I'm doing what The Heir _charged_ me to do, Commander Jade- I'm stabilising an Empire which could very well descend into anarchy and civil war if there's the slightest indication of vulnerability." Reece paused pointedly before stating frostily. "The Heir had a rare clarity of vision in such things; he placed the greater good before himself."

Hallin narrowed his own eyes at that; it sounded a little too close to a eulogy. "He's not dead yet." he pointed out.

Reece brought his face back to the medic, eyebrows raised expectantly. Hallin glanced back down to his patient, then pursed his lips determinedly, "He'll survive. He's young and he's strong and he's made it through far worse than this."

"Thank-you, Nathan." Reece said emphatically, and Mara felt everyone's temper calm a little at the medic's assurance, the burst of adrenaline-laced tension which had been building since Luke had arrived here finally burned away in the brief dispute.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a very long day ahead." Reece paused at the door to add pointedly; "And incidentally, I spoke in error- he's no longer The Heir."

.

.

.

Lightyears away, the Rebel Flagship Home-One maintained a synchronous orbit around Yaga Minor, just clearing the dark side of the planet's shadow, the sharp light of a new dawn creeping in through the viewport and dusting the surfaces with soft shadows.

Leia abruptly sat bolt-upright in bed, eyes wide; "No!!" she shouted into the night, arms out before her to… what? Protect… something- someone. Pull them back from…

Han turned, his voice muffled by the pillow he still clung to. "Hmmm?"

"What?" she asked in reply, blinking awake, the chilling nightmare already fading from reach.

"What d'you say sweetheart?" he murmured; it took a herd of Bantha stampeding through the room to wake Han.

Leia froze in the cold starlight, a sheen of sweat on her body, making her shiver in the chill room; dreams… broken fragments of intense memories burst into waking thoughts, more emotions than images, but terrifyingly real; danger and violence and reckless, abandoned fury. Like a stormfront, wild and tempestuous, unstoppable, relentless…

And somehow… inevitable. The storm had been so long coming, she realised; a dark, roiling shadow on the horizon. Gathering momentum, drawing ever closer, like a change in air pressure, like ions charging. Ever more volatile, immense and momentous…

She frowned, heart still beating staccato against her ribs, arms wrapped about the burning prickle in her stomach, mind racing, chasing down that nebulous feeling; knowing only one thing but knowing it absolutely…

"Something's happened." she murmured; she'd never been more sure of anything in her entire life.

.

.

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Mara stepped out onto the wide balcony, taking in huge gulps of fresh air, sharp with the first frost of the turning season. The sun rose slowly over the city, freezing mist caught in the avenues between the tall buildings, not yet burned off by the wan warmth of daylight - a new day dawning.

A new day dawning on a new Empire- though nobody knew it yet. The first shards of light stretched to touch the highest towers of the Palace, their edges given clarity by the mist.

A new Empire… one without the Emperor. Only there was an Emperor.

And he was struggling for his life in the medi-centre behind Mara.

She should have known… she _had_ known. She'd just never been able to admit it even to herself. She'd known that first time, when he'd destroyed the transparisteel-reinforced windows in the opulent prison that had been designed by the Emperor specifically to hold his new Jedi. Because that prison had been built to hold someone whose powers were equal to Palpatine's…

And he'd still destroyed it- shattered it to dust and rubble.

Not only that, but he'd done so for his own reasons. Reasons that he'd hidden completely - not just from Mara and Vader but most importantly, from Palpatine. She should have known then; he'd never hold his precious Wolf. At the very best, he'd keep it at bay for a while.

His Wolf…

Abruptly, like a veil falling away, recognition of why Palpatine had given Luke that name burst into Mara's memory- the vision! The vision from the night Luke had shattered the reinforced window flooded back into her mind - the first night she'd seen him use the Force.

The vision of the twin suns, of the blood-red moon… of the black wolf running through the shadows, claws to stone, breath misting in the moonlight, hunting…

Her master had asked her what it hunted and in that instant the vision had left her, not a single impression remaining, melting to nothing like the wolf in the shadows… But Palpatine had seen it too, the vision of the wolf; she knew from the look in his eyes when she said it, from the tone in his voice- he'd seen the vision many times.

But he couldn't see the wolf for what it was - or wilfully refused to. He saw only power and potential and thought he could hold it; thought he could bind it and dictate and possess. So he'd hunted down the wolf. He'd claimed it and named it… but the truth was he'd never tamed it - it remained always the same feral creature, wild and ungovernable, and the more he pulled at the leash the more it bared its teeth…

.

It was fitting really, Mara reflected numbly; that Palpatine had lost his Empire in very much the same way that he had created it- by force, in a blaze of passionate fury, all twisted through with Vader and Skywalker's line and her master's precious prophesies, Sith and Jedi both.

And now the sun was dawning on a new Empire… and a new Emperor…

And as much as she liked to think that she knew him, Mara realised now that she had absolutely no idea - none whatsoever - what this new Empire would be.

.

As she considered this, she heard quiet footsteps close behind her and turned to see Hallin approaching.

"I… apologise for our behaviour earlier, Commander Jade- we're all a little… stressed right now. You're not really seeing us at our best."

"On the contrary," Mara observed, "I think I'm finally seeing just that. And a lot more besides."

She glance sideways at the slender medic as he stepped forward to lean on the heavy stone balustrade beside her, rubbing at eyes made tired by hours of close surgery. "So how long has all this been on the cards?" she asked, never one to prevaricate.

Hallin hesitated, glancing down to pick at the stone, so it was left to Mara to fill the uneasy silence, "I'm not blind, Hallin; everything was already in place- there were codes, lines of contact, pre-ordained procedures. Reece already has something to put out over the HoloNet for crying out loud." Despite her words, her voice was subdued and calm- surprisingly so, even to herself.

"You have to understand, Mara, he would have never acted unless he felt that it was in the greater good."

Mara remained silent, and eventually Hallin sighed, squinting into the dawn sun, the autumnal air still cold enough to mist his breath.

"It was to have been a staged take-over," the medic allowed at last, "The military first, though he'd begun making headways into Court and the Royal Houses. He has the tacit support of over half of the Moffs and Fleet Admirals, plus Destroyer and Frigate Captains- another year and he would have held the military; they would have followed him, even over Palpatine's direct order."

Mara shook her head, "No- the Emp…" she floundered, suddenly unsure of what to say, "Palpatine deliberately split up the fleet. Neither Commander in Chief had access to the other fleet- it gave Palpatine the edge if even a large percentage of either fleet became… mutinous."

"But he made the mistake of interchanging high-ranking officers among the two fleets in order to place those he trusted in key positions…"

"Those he _trusted_." Mara underlined, but Hallin was shaking his head gently.

"They may well have been loyal, but their old station had to be filled and with so many of the rank-and-file officers loyal to Luke, never having even met the Emperor, in actuality all it did was to spread the dissent. Remember, Luke has traveled with the Fleet almost constantly; he's conceived very much as a military leader. Most of the recruiting which Luke did was among mid-class officers which he would then quietly contrive to maneuver into higher ranks. By the time they came to command, they were already loyal to him."

Mara nodded, realizing, remembering the number of younger officers in the Core Fleet, remembering noting the gradual change in attitude it had seemed to usher in - she'd been looking right at it! "And they came to power quite quickly, didn't they?"

"He never removed an officer simply because they weren't loyal to him, if that's what you're saying, though he moved them around to ensure an even spread of loyal officers" Even at her accusation, the ever-loyal Hallin was muted in his tone, quietly insistent rather than his usual argumentative self, clearly feeling the need to explain but not wishing to argue. "Those whom he eliminated were spies. Palpatine knew when he placed them within The Heir's staff that they would be found and removed."

"So the fault was the Emperor's, is that what you're saying?"

"No, Commander. I suppose I'm saying that we all do what we must to remain safe."

"Apparently he was right to place them." Mara sniped, though there was no real heart in it, and they both fell to contemplative silence, watching the new day creep into being. Eventually Mara shook her head, "He shouldn't have given Luke free passage into the Outer Rim."

"No." Hallin agreed quietly. It had advanced all their plans so much; had made them ready where otherwise they may have floundered this soon.

Mara still scowled at the sunrise, "But I watched him so carefully… I _know_ that the incoming officers and personnel on Project Redress weren't particularly known to him."

"He knew you were watching." Hallin said simply. Now, with all the risks and duplicity done and Luke still here, he felt strangely sorry for her, caught between torn loyalties and values, struggling to come to terms with the changes she had at once desperately desired and dreaded. It softened his voice, this comprehension, old enmities forgotten behind the realization that she was as trapped as he was on this rollercoaster ride. And it had been, in the end, her comm that had saved Luke when she could so easily have stood and watched him die, knowing what he'd done to Palpatine. Or simply walked away; safeguarded her own future and been long gone before the truth was out.  
But despite all Hallin's reservations she'd come through; called for help from the few whom she knew would be loyal- and he had to respect her for that. So she deserved some kind of explanation.

"But he was still using the project to hide the movement of officers and units of the 701st around between the two Fleets, and to advance those mid-level officers into positions of power when their seniors were _required_ on Project Redress. He was also breaking up perceived hot-spots of entrenched officers loyal to the Emperor, splitting them up and moving them around ostensibly to cover the vacant posts. Everyone was looking at who he brought in, so he always brought the right specialists for the job… but no-one checked who replaced them in the Fleet, or where they were returned to. And it was possible to hide a percentage of loyal mid-level Core Fleet officers in the turnover and have them bled back out into both fleets, Core _and_ Rim. Then he need only supply his father with the names of those who he wished to see advance in the Rim Fleet. The turnover of personnel was _expected_ to be massive in order to complete a project of that size, especially when he was supposedly ramping up construction."

"All the while he was routing loyal personnel into positions of power- building his own private little army." Right under her nose. She'd been charged to watch who he tried to make contact with, where he went, when he spoke to the high-ranking staff he appointed to the station, courting their loyalty- it had never even occurred to her to look too closely at where they came from or who replaced them.

But of course he never showed the slightest interest in the station- never went much further than the management offices when he was there, dividing his time between them and his office on the Patriot. They always seemed a hive of activity based on the figures and the charts, personnel and ordnance streaming through… and he spent so long with the Ops officers when he was there - mid-level officers _he'd_ placed, people he trusted to carry out his orders to the letter - having reams of information sent up to his office on the Patriot, reading through and correcting and reassigning and checking… she'd actually been in the room when he'd done it! Watched him sign off whole groups of personnel, splitting them up to re-integrate them back into the Fleets- using the whole masive project as a glorified staging house to disseminate pre-existing militia.

She'd been watching the shadows and he'd been working in the plain light of day.

"And Project Redress?" she finally asked, sure now that Luke wouldn't have handed it back over to the Emperor as completely as it would seem.

"He had someone in mind." Hallin allowed, "From the Rim fleet. But he'd not set that in motion yet. We… thought we had time – another year at least – this is all rather premature."

An empty laugh came to Mara's lips, "You even had a deadline." She should be angry, outraged, as she had been yesterday morning… was it only yesterday? But the passion was spent, only a numb weariness remaining, relief blunting her guilt… and the realization that if it had to happen, the truth was that this was the outcome she would have wanted.

"Not so much a deadline as a direction. " Hallin admitted, "We have, I think, a very interesting year ahead of us."

Mara turned sharply, "You know what he's going to do?"

Hallin shrugged, "I don't think anybody quite knows what Luke's going to do, as yesterday evidenced. But I have a good idea… and faith."

She turned slowly, watching the dawn light over a new Empire.

"And you Commander- what will you do now?" Hallin asked quietly, his words carrying far greater import than he realized, Mara knew.

"I guess that depends on Luke." she said neutrally, aware that her access to him may be quickly curtailed if they knew the truth. Luke hadn't yet regained consciousness so no-one knew all the facts- that her actions had instigated this; her betrayal.

Only yesterday, he had stood on the landing platform and told her that his fate was in her hands… in the turn of one day, she was intensely aware that the opposite was now true.

She sighed, pushing the thought away, unable to even consider it yet. "What will you do?"

Hallin shrugged, picking at the balustrade again, "I suppose we have a coronation to organise." He laughed disbelievingly, "Is it called a coronation with an Emperor? I have no idea."

"You'd better learn, Hallin." Mara said, wondering if he realized just how much everything was about to change, "Because that man back there is about to step center-stage… and you know as well as I do that it's not where he wants to be. I can guarantee that 'very interesting year' of yours will start the moment he wakes up."

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In the event everything went smooth as glass, the carefully-arranged annexing surprising Mara in its orderly execution… and its extent. In a calculated act of assured standing, the military were the first to officially know, emphasis being placed on securing and stabilising the Empire when the news was made public, and of the military's reassuringly significant role in this.

As such, the subtle insinuation of continued status assured that there was the barest ripple in the military, such was his support, and though there was an uneasy murmur through Court and the Royal Houses, those who had supported Skywalker now came quickly to the fore, knowing their day had come and that they had a vested interest in making the turnover as smooth - and as permanent – as possible.

One of the major houses supporting the new Emperor with applied zeal, Reece noted, was the D'Arca's, Lady Kiria's standing bolstered significantly by her whispered association with Reece. They'd already requested a private audience, and based on the quick glance Reece had glimpsed of the notes on Reece's automemo before he'd blanked the screen, it seemed that they were high in line when such things became possible again.

All members of the Red Guard were quietly reassigned in small groups to outlying barracks within ten hours of the Emperor's death, to be replaced by members of the 701st and the 501st shipped down from the orbiting Patriot and the returned Executor, Reece wishing to take no chances though there had pointedly been no allusion that Palpatine's death was anything other than natural when it was finally confirmed.

Regular announcements were released over the HoloNet for the next two weeks, accompanied by three short pre-recorded pieces from the new Emperor assuring that everything was in hand.

No-one knew of course that the images were pre-recorded, and every effort was made to keep it that way; they'd been shot against a plain, dark backdrop with no clue as to where it was, carefully-chosen words always spoken in the present tense, just vague enough to cover any circumstance, referring to the need for calm during this transition; for solidarity. But hinting at more; a new age, an opportunity to be grasped, the potential for reform.

.

The inauguration was planned in minute detail, the date set for fifteen days after the announcement of Palpatine's death- purportedly to give dignitaries a chance to get to Coruscant, in actual fact it was to give Luke a chance to recover – and for extensive repairs to the Throne Room in preparation, Reece insisting that the ceremony should be there.

Seven days before the ceremony, Luke flew to the Emperor's Hunting Estates on Issig peninsula. What remained of his father's body was cremated there. It was little, but then that wasn't the point, Mara knew; it was a way to say goodbye- to lay his father to rest with some dignity, something which he knew would not have happened without his involvement.

He was the only one to attend, the funeral not announced; even those close to Luke were not encouraged, so that in the event his final moments with his father were much the same way that they had always conducted their association; privately, whatever words spoken remaining between them alone. As much a mystery to Mara as the whole of his ambiguous, explosive relationship with the man he both loved and hated.

Still too weak to stand for more than a few minutes – a fact that was being very carefully hidden from prying eyes – he sat in sombre silence and watched the pyre burn, face neutral, gaze lost in the flames.

.

Both Mara and Hallin remained at a discrete distance throughout, knowing they should go no closer but somehow wishing to be there, aware of his grief without understanding or sharing it.

"He used him." Mara murmured at last of the limits of Vader's relationship to his own son, unable to hide her dislike, incensed at the injustice of it all.

"He knows that." Hallin said of Luke, bringing Mara's green eyes to him. The medic shrugged, his attention remaining on the lonely, melancholy, scene. "Some ties are deeper." he murmured simply, offering no more.

Mara turned back to the solitary figure, "I couldn't forgive." she said, very sure.

"It's a rare thing, the wilful determination to look beyond the obvious." Hallin said, turning to leave his friend in peace. Before he did so he paused to look pointedly back at Mara, though his voice held no censure when he spoke, "I would have thought you of all people would appreciate his ability to do that."

Mara stared at his back as he walked calmly away, her mind racing- did he know?

She'd tried several times to explain to Luke her unwilling part in the events which had led up to the death of his father and his own fateful duel with his Master, hoping to apologise; to be, if not forgiven then at least understood. But always Luke had made it crystal clear that he didn't wish her to elaborate; didn't want to discuss it in any way, always avoiding or curtailing it, never allowing her to continue.

She told herself that perhaps he wasn't ready yet, the events too fresh to talk about.  
She told herself that he'd always known that it was inevitable. That those events had been destined to happen one way or another from the first moment Luke had stood before the Emperor, dragged there by his own father, three very different wills and intentions in play, all of them stubbornly intractable and uniquely incomparably gifted.  
She told herself that he knew firsthand what Palpatine was like; how manipulative and underhand. Told herself that he knew only too well how quickly events rushed beyond your control when he turned on you. That he knew he too had to take his share of the blame in what had happened. She told herself that he just needed some time.

She told herself everything except the one thing she truly feared…

That he didn't want to know how deep her involvement had truly been… because if he did, how could he forgive her… ever.

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Reece walked the corridors of power like he belonged- but then he had always believed he did.

His attentions at the moment were concentrated on the security updates he was reading on his automemo. With just days to the inauguration, they were still sifting through the staff here at the Palace, particularly guards and Intel operatives, trying to sort out who was reliable and who needed to be removed. It was a monumental task and despite it being given priority, it would in all likelihood take several months to process them all- and there would always be a few who slipped through the net; that was what the new Internal Intelligence department had been set up for. The existing Intelligence network would eventually be absorbed into the new, more trustworthy one - when all relevant checks had been completed of course.

And in the meantime, with his father's reliable 501st and Skywalker's own 701st spread so thin, a few who had the means to be a genuine threats in the future had already dropped beneath the radar, some within hours of the Emperor's death.

Saté Pestage was nowhere to be seen, four Grand Moffs were gone, though their ships remained in the fleet, and Dangor had been sighted three times on Bilbringi. Sloppy; he'd be picked up inside the month.

Several members of the Ruling Council had gone to ground too, but Karrde's people had already tracked three down and were watching them. They'd give them a few weeks to see what they did; they should condemn themselves by their own actions, Skywalker had said. Personally Reece would have been happier simply to remove them and several others, but Luke had maintained that members of the Ruling Council were presently responsible for the day to day running of the Empire, still its de-facto legislators, and he needed stability… for now.

It was, of course, the right thing to do under the circumstances, though as far as Reece was concerned, those who had fled had already illustrated their doubtful loyalty by abandoning their posts, taking whatever they had amassed with them. But Palpatine had been diligent in maintaining files on everyone, and those files from the old regime's Intel divisions were in the hands of the new Emperor's agents within hours of the takeover. They wouldn't run far. The Empire still remained, and now as then, disloyalty would not be tolerated.

Those who had proved faithful would be accepted, those who had aided the transition would be rewarded. Those with existing ties would finally reap the benefit.

Reece firmly believed himself to fall into the latter of the three categories; his loyalty to The Heir had never contested or opposed his loyalty to the Empire; they were one and the same.

Since his early induction into the ranks of the Imperial Armed Forces and his recruitment to the Red Guard he was intensely loyal to the Empire, had always believed in it; believed in it still. It was only with assignment to the Emperor's entourage that his convictions had begun to falter- and not even that in truth. He still upheld the _principles_ of the Empire; the ideal if not the reality. If Luke hadn't come along, he would still serve the Emperor and the Empire, still loyal to both, if no longer approving of the former in the flesh- what had been left of it.

They always said you should worship your heroes from afar- nearness withered them, and it was this which had slowly brought Wez to the realisation that his beloved Emperor may have lost his way in indulgent gratuity. Everyone came to the Palace with such high aspirations… but all too soon they felt as sullied and hopeless as everyone else, tainted by association.

And just as such thoughts had begun to percolate, Skywalker had come along.

Wez had been recruited by Saté Pestage, the Emperor's personal Aide- Amedda, like Dangor, was the public face of Palpatine's Offices; Pestage was well known as the Emperor's private voice; to have him approach one on the Emperor's behalf was tantamount to a personal command, as well as individual recognition; a solid foundation in the upper echelons of the Imperial Court. Wez had taken the assignment of course; it wasn't exactly a choice in truth- if he'd turned it down it would have ended his career, certainly within the Palace and probably within the military. And something nudged him on; curiosity, ambition, vanity even, that he'd been singled out.

And after almost two years of serving Skywalker whilst reporting to the Emperor through Pestage, seeing his own distaste at the petty machinations of Palace life reflected in Skywalker's and watching him try to steer a fine path between personal ethics and the need to interact with this unpleasant state of affairs, it was hardly surprising that Wez had begun to listen.

He'd been warned of course that the man he would be assigned to was a Sith. That because he could read thoughts, he would know exactly the tack to take with Wez when he came to try to recruit him- which he would, they assured. Though having said that, for a long time Luke had, if not ignored Reece, then certainly discounted him, clearly viewing him as nothing more than another spy in his midst. It was only when Reece began to build some kind of relationship with Nathan Hallin that Luke had begun to accept Reece… and pull him in.

He had simply seemed… the better choice. Everything that the Emperor was, just as decisive and resolute and uncompromising, as was required to lead so massive and sprawling and diverse-an Empire, but with some sense of moral code. Some vision other than the pursuit of personal power and indulgences.

The Empire that Reece so venerated would be better served in Skywalker's hands; it was as simple as that.

He didn't regard himself as a dissident or a Rebel. Though, like Skywalker, he was willing to use such factions, he would never support them; he believed absolutely in the sanctity of the Empire. And he believed that Skywalker could maintain and further that. So he was not disloyal, he had simply chosen his loyaties with care - and thus far, had never found reason to question that choice.

.

Now, in the face of consummation of those expectations, Skywalker kept to himself leading up to the inauguration, quiet and insular, remaining in his apartments. Though unlike the ever-cautious Nathan or the unusually-nervous Jade, Reece could hardly fault him; it was better that he kept a low profile since his injuries were still apparent and anyway, it was time he began creating some sense of detachment.

Public ceremony not-withstanding, he was Emperor now, and some degree of decorum must be maintained.

.

.

.

It was the night before the inauguration when Mara received the comm she had been dreading and yet somehow, on some level, expecting.

"Mara- is Luke with you?" It was Hallin, the raw nerves audible in his voice, making her sit up in her bed, hand slapping at the light panel nearby.

"No, where are you?"

"I'm in his apartments- he's not here."

Her heart skipped- it actually skipped; she felt it pause then drum against her chest, "Wait there- I'm on my way."

She ran all the way; the entrance to the Perlemian Apartments was calm and composed from the outside, the lights turned low for the night and the main doors closed, guards in ever-present attendance.

It was very different inside; when Mara passed through it was into pandemonium, every room lit, about a dozen of the more trusted guards clustered in the security office which was opposite the main staff offices just inside the doorway, everyone checking security footage to trace Luke's last known movements.

"Have you done a life-sign check?" Mara asked, pushing through; Hallin was nowhere to be seen but Reece was at the front of the throng. They'd disconnected practically all of the security lenses in the apartments at Luke's order a week ago, only those at the main entrance remaining.

"No- we're just calling everyone out of the rooms. We've done a visual check- in fact we've done about three."

"If he doesn't want to be seen he won't be." Mara reminded.

Call-ins were being monitored by the redoubtable Clem, a long-standing member of Luke's security staff, who had made the transition from Palpatine to his Heir without so much as a blink. Now he turned to Reece, voice tight, "We have all eyes reported in again- still negative."

Reece shook his head, not really needing the life-sign check; "He's not in the apartments."

"How did he get past ten guards?" Mara asked, feeling some uneasy deja-vue creep over her, realising just how much this reminded her of the time long ago when Luke had first broken out of these apartments to buy Han Solo's freedom.

That time, he'd intended staying in the Palace- this time…

Reece took her arm, pulling her away from the crowds, "We have less than nine hours before the official public inauguration starts; we'll look pretty stupid without an Emperor in attendance."

Mara twisted free, "Then you should have been watching him- don't tell me you didn't see this coming."

"_You're_ supposed to be stabilising him."

"Don't worry, Reece, he'll be at your precious investiture." She set off out of the security rooms, knowing that it would do them no good to keep looking- if he wanted to be found, he'd be found. The question was; did he want to be- ever?

She was three steps down the hall when Hallin caught up with her on his way back in, though his worried tone at least held genuine concern, "No luck yet?"

"He's not here." Mara shook her head, walking out into the corridor beyond the apartment then pausing, realising she had no idea where to go next.

"We just need to think this through," Hallin said obviously, bringing Mara's disparaging eyes round to him though he continued gamely, ignoring the look- or missing it in his anxiety, "Where would he go… did you two ever meet anywhere- anywhere private?"

"Nathan, if he wanted to leave, he'll be long gone by now, believe me."

"Why are we assuming he wants to leave?" Hallin asked, frowning, though he didn't dispute the fact, Mara noted.

She set off down the corridor, keeping her voice low, "Come on, you've seen how he's been. He doesn't want this- he never did. His father wanted it and now he's locked on that course. Maybe he finally decided to get off."

Hallin was unperturbed, strangely calm in the crisis, as he always was when it actually came down to it, "If that's true, he won't stay on Coruscant; his face is all over the HoloNet- somebody would stop him. He'd want to get further afield."

Mara frowned, pulled in to the discussion, "Who's that smuggler he deals with - the one with the handlebar moustache?"

"Karrde?" Hallin considered, "He _has _expanded his network this far into the Core Systems…"

"Where's his nearest base?"

"I know he has bases at Velusia and Abregado-Rae…."

"Nothing reachable with a short-range transport; he'd need a hyperdrive?" Mara prompted.

Hallin shook his head, uncertain, "I _think_ he may have a few safe-houses on Coruscant, near the Poles- you'd have to check with Wez-"

Mara had already pulled her comlink free, another thought occurring; "Control? This is Jade- are there any ships due to leave from the secure bays in the West Tower?"

"No, Ma'am. All Tower bays are closed down until after the inauguration."

Mara frowned, not willing to let the hunch go yet, "Anything cleared but not actioned- high priority clearance?"

There was a pause; "Yes Ma'am; two Echo-Group fighters due to relieve perimeter guards- they're from bay three… and a long-range scout in bay nine- no assignment listed but it's an Echo designation; registered to the 701st."

She shut off the comlink, setting off at a run, "Got him!"

Mara glanced behind her, shouting to Hallin, repeatedly pressing the turbolift call and resisting the urge to head for the stairs, "Get everyone out of Bay 9W - _quietly_; don't spook him - and _don't_ let anybody up there!"

The turbolift doors slid open and Mara stepped in, Hallin's hand reaching out to hold against the closing door for a moment, "And how am I supposed to do that!?"

"Hallin you're not a medic anymore- you're an Adjutant- a Primary Aide," Mara reminded of his new status, "You can order pretty much everyone now, believe me."

She pushed his hand free, snapping off one last order between the closing doors, "And don't let anyone try to lock that ship down or he'll cut it free and leave anyway!"

.

.

By the time she got there the bay was empty. Security was in the corridor outside, looking confused and jumpy, but Hallin had gotten everyone else well away.

Mara walked through the dark silence of the small bay inset into the West Tower, its exit open to the night. Several advanced scoutships were arranged across one wall, their noses pointing to the exit and she walked nervously to the second, easy to spot amongst the others because it was the only one with no landing clamps engaged. The door release wasn't locked, so she lifted her hand to it, pausing mid-action, realizing she hadn't the slightest idea what to say if Luke was actually inside. If he wouldn't come back - what then?

Squaring her jaw, she pressed the release and stepped in, turning to catwalk the short length to the cockpit, wondering why she was being quiet; he was a Sith- he probably knew Mara was on her way here about the same time she did.

"Will you come?" his voice, steady and even, made her jump as she opened the door to the shadowed cockpit.

"What?" she was completely thrown, once by his presence and again by the resolute tone of his voice.

Luke didn't turn, eyes and spirit never leaving the dark expanse of space visible beyond the inset bay doors, "I'm leaving." he said simply, "Are you coming - or am I going alone?"

Mara hesitated before the resolute determination of his voice; she'd come here to talk him down; now suddenly she was involved in a very different conversation. She paused at the open cockpit door, voice quiet. "Where are you going?"

He shrugged slightly, eyes still on that sliver of open space, "Away. Anywhere."

"To do what?"

"I don't know- does it matter?"

Mara took a few tentative steps forward; Luke was sat tensely, hand resting on the toggles which ignited the fire-up sequence. How long had he sat like this, she wondered? The landing clamps had been released over an hour ago, according to the bay logs. Interestingly, Luke had arranged permission direct with Palace Control a whole three days earlier.

"Why are you leaving?" a stupid question really, but it would get him talking.

She heard his foot tap quickly against the pitch pedals, like he was itching to go, yet he seemed strangely calm, that particular wired, kinetic stillness he had sometimes, like the silence in the eye of the storm. Without the Emperor or his father there to focus him, he seemed more and more to be splitting up- polarising into two separate people; one the confident, driving, self-possessed Sith that her master had created, the other the self-effacing, unassuming, idealistic pilot who had been brought here so unwillingly five years ago. But always with an edge; he never lost that now- Palpatine had ground that into him too deeply to ever step back from.

Luke remained still, eyes fixed on that sliver of freedom, his whole sense attuned to it, as if it were calling him. "Why should I stay?"

"It's what your father would have wanted." Mara said, and immediately regretted it. His foot stopped tapping and it seemed to Mara that the temperature dropped several degrees, though he didn't turn.

"I'm sorry- that was unfair." she backtracked, and his foot began tapping again, more restless than ever… and still he stared out into the open night.

"My father wanted power." he allowed at last, knowing it was true.

"For you. He wanted it for you. You've achieved everything he wanted- all you intended. Now's the time to reap the rewards."

Luke shook his head, voice cynical and very sure, "There are no _rewards_, Mara."

She was silent for long seconds, lost as to what he even meant by that… "…You're the _Emperor_!

Again he shook his head, dismissive.

"Yes, you are! Tomorrow is just a ceremony Luke- that's all. You're _already_ Emperor- you were the moment Palpatine died."

He finally looked to her, that ground-in, perfectly-modulated intonation giving way to a loose Rim accent; "I'm not an Emperor Mara- I'm a nobody from Tatooine."

"Who changed the course of a galaxy!"

He looked away, unmoved. "I'm not an Emperor."

"You are now."

Luke only shook his head, unwilling to be dragged into a discussion, wrapping his arms about himself, eyes remaining on that this, dark sliver of freedom just beyond the bay doors, so close he could almost touch it.

Mara just stared, struggling to understand- why _wouldn't_ he want this? "After… after all these years and all this struggle… you're just going to walk away?"

"Yeah." The reply was instant.

"But this is what you wanted – it's what you fought for."

Luke turned just briefly, surprised that she could be so close and understand him so little, even now. "I was fighting Palpatine, I wanted _him_, not his position. Vader wanted this, not me… and I don't owe him anything. I don't want this power- I don't _want_ it."

She reached out to squeeze his arm, "Don't you see - that's why you should have it."

"No." Luke shrugged away, not wishing this closeness if he would have to leave it behind, "No-one should have this much power. No-one… Let the vultures fight amongst themselves. I've no reason to stay."

"What about me?"

He turned, mismatched eyes locking on her, drawing Mara in as completely as the night sky called him. "Come with me."

In that moment, she almost would have- would have followed him anywhere. But something held her back; loyalty to her old master, the desire to see Luke rule, to be with him - she didn't know. She blinked, looking down, caught between conflicting desires. To run - to tell him to fire up the ship and just run with him, wherever he wanted to go - or to stay, a lifetime's investment and familiarity here, her knowledge of what Luke was capable of, her image of him as that person.

She wanted to be with him _here _- as that person; as Emperor. "My life is here Luke- and so is yours. This is my home-"

"This is the place where I was imprisoned, beaten, spied on and manipulated for five years." Luke said tersely, the dry edge returning to his voice along with the formal accent, the change mercurial as ever. "It's the place where my father died."

_The place where I died._ He didn't say it out loud, knowing she wouldn't understand- how could she?

"But that's all done now- it's done, it's all in the past. This is your future, your life is here now."

"No. I've done all I intended."

"So you'll just leave?"

He remained silent, aware that they were talking in circles, so unfathomable was his decision to her.

Mara only stared, dumbfound. How could he not want this? How could he not see that it was right, that he was right- _why_ he was right? _Try another tack;_ "What about all your plans?"

His eyes dropped momentarily, jaw clenching, then he looked back up, eyes to the stars. "That was them; they're all done."

Mara frowned– because he _had_ planned. In the last two weeks, Hallin had slowly let slip fragments and groundwork, objectives and intentions, and... realisation hit Mara then; that Luke hadn't expected to live, not really. He'd made plans, nudged events to what he believed would be beneficial, hinted at strategies and potential policies, but as an exercise, nothing more. Something to keep him moving, to give others faith. He never thought he'd be here; not now.

But he was, and she would hold him to them, to the possibilities he'd earned; _drag_ him forward if necessary."I know everything you planned with Hallin and Reece. Are you just going to let all that go now? Those opportunities…"

He turned sharply to her, and she saw some spark of the Emperor's Sith return, heard it as an edge in his voice as he let out an annoyed, derisive laugh, the familiarity of it setting a warm twist in Mara's stomach. "Hallin; how the hell he kept his mouth shut for five years I'll never know."

"He told me because he's proud; because he believes in you, because he trusts you."

Luke sighed, rubbing at his temples, "Then he's a fool."

"No he's not. Much as I'd like to agree, the truth is he's one of the smartest men I know- and he has faith in you."

Luke sighed again, shaking his head, eyes returning to that promise of freedom beyond the Palace walls, sharp edge and sharp accent instantly being eaten away again by doubt. "I'm not an Emperor, Mara- I'm not."

"You're not _the_ Emperor," she corrected, "But then you didn't want to be- didn't ever intend to be. What you did, you didn't do for yourself- _that's_ why Hallin trusts you. That's why they all trust you- look to you now. You can hold all this together and still change its direction- you can do that. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

And it had been- once. But she was wrong; Hallin was wrong - because in the end, he'd faced Palpatine for his own reasons. The truth was that Palpatine had hurt him and he'd sought retribution. Even when he'd told Palpatine that he intended to tear down the Empire the Sith had built, that he would scour any trace of its creator from history, it had been for his own reasons… hadn't it?  
He couldn't quite remember any more- couldn't trace where the desire for revenge ended and the desire to create a better order began. They merged and muddied and in truth… he didn't remember anymore whether that mattered.

"_Use you feelings, boy; bend the power they contain toy our own will. They make you invincible." _His Master's teachings rang in his head and how could that make him anything but Sith? How could that make him a better choice?

He'd fought too hard for too long and somewhere along the way he'd lost some vital part of himself; ethics, principles, integrity- conscience? He didn't quite know. He just knew there was a gaping hole inside of him and it would be so easy to fill that void with power and ambition… and was that wrong?  
He couldn't remember; couldn't remember what he'd once wanted… what he'd once been. And that scared him. Far more than ancient prophesies and Sith Masters, the realization of that scared him.

Luke shifted in his seat, hand going to his side, the wound still fresh enough to make him wince. He'd been holding everything together for so long under incredible pressure that it had become normal, but now… now he didn't need to. Now the constraints were gone and there was nothing hanging over his head and he didn't know how to live like this anymore… he didn't even know how. "I'm so tired, Mara; I'm so tired. They want me to be something I can't be- not anymore. They're all looking to me to be something I _cannot_ be."

"They want you to be exactly who you are, Luke. _That's_ who they have faith in."

He pursed his scarred lips, fingers brushing lightly over the startup toggles, playing out the sequence that would flare the engines into life. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely- have you heard that before?" he asked at last without looking up.

"That's just an old saying Luke; real life's more complicated than-"

"What if it's not?" he said immediately, "What if it really is that simple? If I try, and fail… who'll stop me? I don't want to be the next Palpatine."

"Then don't be."

"How do I know? How do I know when I've stepped over the line?"

"You'll know," she assured, "Just be yourself."

He brought his hand to his temples, eyes closed, voice deathly tired. "I don't know who that is anymore."

"_This_ is you." Mara said, putting all her own faith into those words, "You're the man who's sat for the last hour in this cockpit and tried to leave, but couldn't quite summon the selfish indifference that'd make you able to do so. You think I don't know you at all, but I know that; you can't quite bring yourself to abandon these people or their faith in you. You'll stay because it's the right thing to do and you know it. You won't let them down." She reached out to rest her arm lightly on his, the weight of it easing his hand away from the startup toggles – and felt it give, just slightly. "And they won't let you down. No-one's asking you to do this alone. We're all here… we'll get through it- we'll make a difference. Isn't that what you always wanted- to make a _difference?_"

He was silent for a long time, wrestling with private demons, foot still tapping restlessly against the pitch pedals and Mara remained still, giving him time, knowing to push no further.

Finally the restive tapping slowed to silence and he seemed to relax, body losing tension, tired eyes falling away from that narrow strip of starlit night.

When he eventually turned, it was with a sharp glint in those mismatched eyes, no trace of regret or misgivings in his voice or his straightening stance, the change as total and as mercurial as ever, "If I'd left… would you have come with me?

It was a searching challenge rather than tentative concern. Still, Mara squeezed his arm in reassurance, "I'd have followed you to the end of the galaxy."

"And then what?"

She smiled, "Then I would have brought you back here and told you _never_ to scare me like that ever again, Skywalker."

.

.

.

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

.

.

Reece walked calmly out into the anteroom, turning to the first figure waiting there, one of many summoned to the new Emperor's presence in the days following his formal investiture, nervous tension holding their backs straight, everyone waiting to see how the new Emperor would choose to stamp his identity onto his new Office in those first weeks. To date he had been disturbingly quiet; restrained even, though there was a sense that a great deal was going on behind the scenes, away from the public eye.

"The Emperor will see you now." Wez Reece, the new major-domo to the new Emperor, was settling into his role with more noticeable ease.

Mas Amedda rose and set forward, leaving Chancellor Cordo to gaze dolefully after him.

He walked into the office, large and elegantly proportioned but simply furnished; hand-made, aesthetic pieces of effortless integrity, none of them familiar to Amedda- hardly to Emperor Palpatine's sumptuous standards.

The man who looked up from the reader at the far side of the wide, mirror-polished macassar-ebony desk however, embodied every bit as much presence as the old Emperor had- and every bit as much menace in his mismatched eyes. Hope at the whispered rumours that the Emperor was less than comfortable in his new role dissolved for Amedda, burned away by the self-assured poise in that intensely analytical gaze. Amedda slowed to a halt, bowing deeply, aware of the precariousness of his situation.

Chancellor Reece closed the doors as he entered the room, then walked unhurriedly to stand beside the Emperor, who steepled his fingers in thought, letting the silence hang heavy.

"Chancellor Amedda-" the Sith Emperor paused again, impassive, as if considering his words, "We have had a… less than ideal relationship to date; would you say that's a fair appraisal?"

It briefly crossed Amedda's mind to feign wounded surprise at the new Emperor's words but, familiar with Sith abilities and remembering to whom he spoke, he instead nodded just once, aware that his nervousness was darkening his pale blue skin to indigo but unable to stop it.

The Emperor glanced only briefly, just to clarify that he hadn't missed the fact, then caught Amedda's eyes once more. "However, in the interests of smoothing this transition, I am prepared to accept you back into the Cabinet… unless of course you feel your loyalties would be split?"

Amedda took a half step forward in his eagerness to seize this opportunity, "No, Excellency, not at all. I would be honoured to serve."

The Emperor didn't move, didn't react in the slightest, just remained still, fingers steepled, staring at Amedda until the Chadrian felt his skin flush hot again, feeling the need to fill the uncomfortable silence with meaningless murmurs, "I would be…"

"There is, of course, a price for this privilege;" The Emperor cut across his words, "If you want my confidence, you must earn it- I trust you are prepared to do that?"

"Of course… name any…"

The Emperor let his hands drop to the arms of the chair, relaxed stance speaking of casual confidence; so much like his predecessor. "Palpatine had a drug - a tailor-made drug created specifically for use against me. You can imagine how… undesirable it would be for such a thing to fall into the wrong hands."

Amedda nodded rapidly, understanding, "Of course, Excellency, of course."

"Considering your position, I would assume that you know where such a product was being synthesised and stored. I would also presume that you have the names of everyone involved in the project, from researchers and technicians to manufacturers of storage and delivery systems?"

"I have all the details, Excellency; everyone involved." Amedda assured readily, eager to buy back favour. "Every unit; research, manufacture and storage."

"Good. Then I would like you to accompany Chancellor Reece to your offices and supply him with all relevant details- including a list of every guard in the Palace who held a supply or a method of delivering it."

Amedda, along with all of Palpatine's personal staff, had been excluded from all Cabinet and Council chambers, including his own offices, since the announcement of the old Emperor's demise, all the guards with whom he had held sway already removed. A great deal of sensitive and very useful information was securely stored there. Too securely, as it turned out. But then who would have thought that Palpatine's protégé would have found his feet - and his nerve - so soon? Certainly not Palpatine. And while loyalty to one's Emperor was tantamount in Amedda's position, the prerequisite to maintain that status required a certain flexibility as to exactly _who_ that Emperor was.

The new Emperor paused, leaning forward slightly to emphasise the next, "Let me be clear on this, Chancellor; this is your _one_ opportunity to impress me. I do not give second chances and I do not tolerate failure or transgression; loyalty however, will not go unnoticed or unrewarded."

Amedda bowed several times in appreciation; yes, very little had changed, "Of course, Excellency; of course."

The Emperor nodded, having felt that he had made his desires clear, "We will speak when you return, Chancellor."

He said no more, clearly feeling nothing more needing to be said at this time. He had made his wishes clear; it was up to Amedda to prove his usefulness now.

The Chadrian bowed and backstepped before bowing again and turning to leave, the Emperor not looking up to acknowledge this show of respect. Chancellor Reece paused a few moments, closing the door, Amedda waiting outside; if he was anything like the old Emperor, then he would expect his wished carried out immediately- one did not keep a man of his authority waiting. And certainly Amedda was eager to return to his offices; he would take the opportunity to surreptitiously retrieve other information whilst he was there - for his personal use.

.

Reece closed the door behind Amedda, turning back to Luke; "Well?"

"He'll help us exactly as long as it's to his advantage to do so." Luke stated, no doubt in his mind, gaze turning to look at the point beyond the office wall where Amedda stood waiting, as if for Luke, the barrier simply did not exist.

Reece was hardly surprised at the assessment, but then, that was not the reason for Amedda's summons; "What do you want me to do?"

"Have the 'techs go in first and plant a ghost in his system- link it to a remote site and install any covert surveillance equipment you need then go with him; take a few sets of eyes. Make sure the remote site gets his codes and passwords and all the information about the drug from his system when he opens it, including anybody who worked on it past and present."

"Then?"

"Take a team- close them down. Destroy everything. But I want every single vial accounted for without exception- every copy of the formula and process. No traces."

Reece nodded, "And those who worked on it?"

Luke leaned back, considering; "They're under arrest; state security. Put them in the Palace Detention Centre – no-one's to know they're there."

Reece nodded without comment; it was a lighter sentence that he'd expected, but then the Emperor may simply wish to be sure before he wiped the slate clean. "And Amedda?"

The Emperor turned mismatched eyes to Reece, "He's a liability." He said simply, knowing nothing more was needed.

Reece bowed then backstepped, turning to walk from the room.

.

Luke sat in silence for a few moments, considering. Eventually Mara stepped out from the side room she'd been listening from, walking to stand before him, her eyes following his, still set on the door that Reece had exited through.

"Go after him- quietly." Luke said without hesitation, "Make sure he does exactly as he was told. I want a separate copy of all the information that's on Amedda's system - an independent record, not a dupe of Reece's. And I want proof that all the vials are accounted for."

Trust was an idealistic luxury Luke could no longer afford; his Master would have been proud of him, he reflected ironically.

Mara nodded without hesitation, stepping fluidly away, heading for the door.

"Mara-" She turned, forest green eyes regarding him as he spoke again, the slightest of smiles on his scarred lips, "That includes the four you hold."

.

-

.

-

.

-

**EPILOGUE**

_._

_._

_We all watched of course, even us- even the most fervent Rebels drew to a halt to watch from holo-screens in ready-rooms and messes and impromptu setups on the flight-decks. There wasn't much else to do; most of the Rebel Alliance is hidden away at the edge of the Rim Systems on tenterhooks, waiting to see if he'll send his Fleet after us._

_So even we watched- how could we not? It was history in the making… good or bad. The whole galaxy ground to a halt to watch the investiture of a new Emperor. Everyone from the most ardent Imperialist to the most zealous Rebel… we all fell silent when the images were sent out on every channel across the HoloNet._

_Here, we all seemed to drift in and gather round in the mess hall of Home-One, pilots and soldiers and officers and 'techs, all caught up in that strange, morbid fascination - the desire to get a look at the new Emperor._

_And we did; carefully chosen and edited images – always from a distance – which is I suppose how most people will see him now._

_There was just one image__ from the inaugural ceremony itself, in a huge hall with incredible vaulted ceilings, hundreds of dignitaries in attendance; the military, the Royal Houses, planetary Governors and representatives. Our new Emperor sat on a simple, carved chair as luminaries read out the Rites. He wasn't looking at them._

_It's interesting; gone was the massive throne which had been in every single image of the Throne Room from Palpatine's reign, gold on gold, a blazing sunburst at its back, carvings of planets and moons set into the heavy gilded footrest. This new Emperor had no taste for ungainly allegory or pointless luxury; he sat on a plain, heavy chair with nothing to prove, his feet firmly on the ground._

_The language was Old Coruscanti. Court Language, they call it; no-one else speaks it anymore outside of that most privileged of elite circles. The official paused and everybody in the hall stood and I remember distinctly someone from Intel stood close behind me saying: _

"_That's it- he's Emperor."_

_Someone asked how she knew and she murmured without turning from the screen, "No-one sits in the Emperor's presence."_

_He glanced up but he didn't speak; just looked kinda detached and distant. But he filled that chair like he was meant to be there- like he belonged. And everyone saw that their new Emperor wore a lightsaber. There'd always been rumours about Palpatine; that he was Sith. Now, with the new Emperor, there was no doubt. No room for misinterpretation._

_Everyone here knows the rumours of course; Intel had them a few days after the announcement of Palpatine's death, though nothing was ever confirmed. That he fought with Palpatine for the Throne, a duel to the death between Sith. That's why they put off the inauguration, not so dignitaries could arrive for some formal ceremony; it was just an excuse to give him time to recover._

_The official image was released an hour or so later, probably very carefully chosen. He was stood before an incredible set of screens inlaid with gold strapwork and precious stones, etched and enamelled in a luminous, minutely-detailed rendition of a galactic map- someone said it was the Rim Systems; from Bothan Space all the way to the Sluiss Sector and everything in between. There's a whole set of them in the Throne Room, they said; the whole galaxy laid out before him, to remind him what he owns. It just… glowed- it was incredible._

_He wore a dark, sombre suit with a high stand collar and a long, regal cloak tied over one shoulder, carefully arranged about him and dripping down the steps before him, intense midnight blue against that glowing gold. He didn't… carry anything; no sceptre, no- I don't know; no crown or anything but…  
__He looked like an Emperor - everything I thought he would._

_Solo – Han Solo, who always says he knew him – Solo said that on the screen behind him, on the map, was his home planet. I don't know whether to believe him; why would an Emperor be brought up in the Rim Systems?  
__He wouldn't say which planet it was- or how he knew him._

_Later there were a few images released from the public celebrations on Coruscant- the largest impromptu fireworks display ever, we're told._

_Our new Emperor stepped out onto the Pageant Balcony in the Main Palace, watching, his limited entourage following him. It was small, but I guess its early days yet._

_Forget the fireworks - the massed spectators drowned them out completely when they saw him. The NewsNet said about sixteen million visitors went to Coruscant for the Inauguration. They all think everything will change now- they don't even know him; most of the galaxy had never even seen an image of him three weeks ago. They have no idea what he's going to do, they just love him because he's not Palpatine. Because he's young and he's enigmatic and new. Already the NewsNet are starting to mention an Empress. Already everybody knows somebody who knows somebody who claims they met him once - even here!_

_No-one out there's talking about what he'll do – to the constitution or the military or the courts – whether his views are progressive and enlightened or totalitarian and oppressive. They just want to know who's standing beside him and if it's serious. No-one wants to scratch the surface of their shiny new hope. They don't want the truth._

_He glanced down only once at the vast, sprawling crowds, lifting his hand in acknowledgement. They went wild – absolutely wild – the noise topped off the sound systems on the autolenses that were recording it. He didn't smile, didn't wave again; just stepped back a few paces into his entourage, like he was uneasy; embarrassed by it._

_Nice touch, we all thought; he plays the crowds well._

_He didn't stay out there much longer. I guess you don't have to when you're the Emperor; you pretty much do what you want- who's gonna stop you?_

_He's already announced a one-month period of official mourning for Palpatine, in which Court will be suspended – ample time for our new Emperor to install his own supporters. Not that he needs them- his word is law now._

_The question is… what will it be?_

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Continued in

**At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness**


	35. Chapter 35

Well, that's it folks.

I'm off on holiday for a few weeks now (yaay!) then I'll probably take a few more weeks to start sketching out the last part of this trilogy, so it'll be a short while coming, but if I get time, I may put up a few shorts or a teaser for part three (if you're interested - let me know?).

A huge, whopping, massive great heap of thanks to all those who posted reviews - I _seriously_ would have stopped long ago without you; everything from Chapter five onwards is because you pushed me to do it, so pat yourselves on the back right now... go on...  
Thank-you :)

If you're interested, the pic for the third story (with some big clues in it) is on my website, which you can access from my bio page, along with pics for part one and two. Drop by and leave me a line :)

Hope you enjoyed the ride,

Blank.


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